Carver Edlund's Supernatural: Series 9 - Elise Shurley
by Seven-Shades-of-A
Summary: Series Nine of Carver Edlund's cult classic, compiled through the notes and manuscripts left behind after the author's disappearance. Book Eighteen: It - The Bunker has always been home to the darker aspects of the supernatural world. And some secrets are never meant to be discovered.
1. A Word from the Author

Dear Readers,

My uncle, who you've come to know as Carver Edlund, told me the stories of Sam and Dean Winchester when I was eleven. They are stories he has shared with you, after much persuasion, and are stories that have ended up in your hands. I was horrified when my uncle told me he would no longer be publishing the _Supernatural _series. I knew the fans, no matter how few there are, would be disappointed as so many questions were left after _Swan Song_. Despite his decision, he continued to write the manuscripts and jot down notes leading all the way up through series eight and part of series nine.

His sudden disappearance landed me with these manuscripts and notes, with which I was able to continue publication. My uncle's notes ended with _Blade Runners_, but my agent and I believe the stories to be far from over. Thus bringing us to the book you're now reading. Though he is no longer here with us, I hope I can do my uncle and his stories justice they deserve. Enjoy the ride.

-E.S.

For updates, deleted scenes, and other extras, you can find me on Tumblr under "elise-shurley".


	2. Book Seventeen: The Trouble With Angels

**Book Seventeen**

**The Trouble With Angels**

_It may be said with a degree of assurance that not everything that meets the eye is as it appears._

_-_Rod Serling

* * *

**The Road So Far**

_It's always difficult to begin a story. You may have the entire plot and every character planned out meticulously and things still tend to fly out the window when you actually sit down to write it. I've been writing for a very long time, though I didn't always know that what I wrote was actually true. But, funnily enough, I did that to myself a very long time ago._

_I'm getting off topic, though. Many of you know who Sam and Dean Winchester are and just what they do. You've read the stories and know exactly what those two boys have been through. I know I haven't written about them in a long time now. But it's time to pick up the pen again. Because something big is about to happen, something I could never have planned._

_Then again, much of what is happening now wasn't in the script. Ever since the events of _Swan Song_, there really haven't been any plans. They tore up the script and let the world spin on. But, of course, that left the door open for others to try to be me. Michael, Raphael, Metatron, they've all attempted to create their own story. I'm willing to let them try. After all, I've watched from the angels from afar as they tried to go on without me. Some of them made me proud. Others caused me to despair._

_But, every now and then, a handful bring me hope again. Sam, Dean and Castiel still continue to do so. Once you're as old as I am, surprises such as the ones brought about by those three make you smile. Kate and Zack, of course, were a pleasant surprise. But you don't know them yet. If you did, this wouldn't be that much of a story, would it?_

_But, for those of you who aren't entirely certain what has happened so far, let me give you a little reminder. Sam and Dean never finished the trials to lock Hell, Castiel was fooled by Metatron into helping him cast the angels from Heaven, Dean was tricked by Gadreel into letting him use Sam as a vessel to heal him, Castiel spent time as a human before stealing another angel's grace, Dean was given the Mark of Cain and found the First Blade to kill Abaddon, and Metatron believes he can rewrite the Earth so that he is ultimately the hero. Of course he doesn't realize that only_I_ am allowed to write the world's script._

_You're probably confused by now as to my identity. But I assure you, you know me well. Most of you probably resent me for what I've done, or haven't done. Others may hate me for the pain and suffering I cause. Then there are the few who still believe in me, who seek me out for answers. But I swore long ago that I wouldn't interfere. There's a reason for that._

_But enough about me. It's time you heard the story._

* * *

**Now**

A couple miles west of the Wind Cave National Park in South Dakota, there's a decent hiking trail through a little wooded area. People used to follow the trail a handful of years back. That was before the new management came in and disregarded the area. The path itself can now be found overgrown with weeds and hardly distinguishable from any other patch of grass that happens to be surrounding it.

That didn't stop a few brave souls from still going out there, chancing the poisonous snakes, spiders, and skunks that happened to call the place home. You'd be surprised at what doesn't deter people from going to poke around the area. Or maybe you wouldn't. At this point in the story, I'm sure you've already seen just how many people go to traipse around some abandoned factory or haunted house.

This is, unfortunately, where this story begins. Three hikers happened to be stomping through the woods, scaring any little animals that happened to be within a dozen feet of them. Now, I know you don't often learn anything about the poor souls spoken of within the first couple minutes of these stories, but they did have lives before their untimely demises.

The eldest, a girl by the name of Molly Anderson, had just recently from medical school and was planning to find a job as a psychiatrist. Her current boyfriend, Tate Callaghan, wanted to become a freelance photographer but instead worked at for a local newspaper for the income. They had invited their friend, Sarah Cooley, to go hiking with them as she had just come back from her volunteer work in Cambodia.

See there. Isn't it refreshing to actually know something about them instead of listening about random Jane or John Does? It's a real shame that they'll be dead by the end of this part of the story.

The ironic point of their story is that, had Tate brought a map like his girlfriend had suggested, they would not have been horribly lost as the sun slid below the horizon. They would have, in fact, found the hillside three hours earlier and enjoyed the view before returning home for a peaceful night in. That is, unfortunately, not what happened.

As it so happened, Tate had forgotten the map in his hurry to fill his backpack at the last minute. Which, in turn, left him and Molly arguing loudly a couple feet in front of Sarah. She shook her head at the two, listening as Molly once again called him out on being irresponsible and procrastinating at the worst times. Her eyes glanced down at the crumpled grass as she tried to block them out.

Her steady footsteps faltered as she noticed a patch of grass at the edge of the trail that was starkly different from the rest. The area was blackened and had sunk down slightly into the ground. Glancing up at her friends, she decided they couldn't possibly go that far and decided to take a closer look. After all, it's difficult to see in the dusk.

Stepping off the trail, Sarah followed the line of burnt grass beneath her feet. It seemed to stop at one of the trees and she looked up to see long claw marks along the bark. Now, let it be known that claw marks on a tree are hardly a rare sight in South Dakota. However, marks which were almost an inch in width and spanned three feet were not something to be scoffed at.

Sarah looked up at the soft _whoosh_ of wings, but saw nothing near her. That included her two companions on this little adventure. She made her way back to the trail and glanced around.

"Molly?" she called, hoping they were only a few feet out of her sight. "Tate?"

Instead of a reply, a scream ripped through the woods, causing the few birds hanging around in the trees to scatter. Now, most human instincts dictate that at the sign of danger, one is to run away from whatever impending peril is within the vicinity. But basic human instinct doesn't seem to apply to the poor saps at the beginnings of these stories. Almost makes you wonder what they're thinking, doesn't it?

So, instead of running away for help, as any sensible person would do, Sarah ran _towards_ the source of the scream. Running up the trail, stray branches and leaves tugged at her clothing as if telling her to go back. An upturned stone caught her shoe and she tumbled forward into the scorched grass. As she pushed herself off the ground, a startled cry left her lips when she saw what lay before her.

Molly lay face up on the burnt trail, her legs and arms splayed haphazardly around her. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, blood running down from three long slashes across her abdomen. But what stood out the most were her eyes. Nothing remained of them except smoldering sockets leading deep into her skull. Smoke still rose from the gaping holes, filling the area with the stench of burning flesh.

Sarah scrambled away from the corpse, frantically hoping Tate would still be alive and they would escape the nightmare they had stumbled into. But she was thrown across the glade by a great force and she cried out as her leg snapped. She stared down at the floor, afraid to look at the burning creature approaching her. Tears slid down her face as it stopped within five feet of her.

Her eyes rose from the floor and up to the creature before her. She gave an audible gasp as she saw it was a man in what looked like a leather jacket and mirror aviators. A sense of calm flooded her as she realized he could help her. Until he pulled off his sunglasses.

And another scream rang through the woods, unheard by anyone besides the man.


	3. B17: Chapter One

The Bunker was nearly silent if you ignored the sporadic sound of pages turning. Sam and Dean sat on opposite ends of one of the many tables lined up in the center of the library. A glass of whiskey sat beside a pile of ratty old books as Dean paged through them. They had lost track of Abaddon, but that didn't stop him from looking up any and all information he could on the Knight of Hell. Truthfully, he was just looking for a way to feel productive.

If he was being fully honest with himself, he was getting a bit stir-crazy. The only time he had left the bunker for the past few weeks was either for more liquor or to get a drink away from his nagging brother. But Dean was never fully truthful with himself. Let's face it, we all know that. He never found the need to be honest with himself and, in reality, he didn't want to. It was easier to gulp down another fifth of scotch, turn up his favorite song loud enough to drive out the noise of the world, and pretend he hadn't lived the life he had.

But Sam knew. Sam always knew what was going on in his brother's head. Similar to the way we always know. But, honestly, when are the boys ever alright? He simply didn't say anything because he knew well that it would set Dean off. Instead, he sat behind his laptop and glanced over every couple of minutes. This is exactly how he managed to catch sight of his older brother rubbing his forearm gingerly. Sam felt his throat constrict at the motion.

The Mark of Cain had been bothering Dean for nearly a month now. It scared Sam more than anything. He was watching his brother slowly become colder and colder, his sense of morality becoming more black and white. It was terrifying. But Sam wasn't going to let Dean know that's what he thought.

"Hey?"

Dean spared him a glance through the corner of his eye, "Found something?"

"No."

His older brother gave an irate sigh before returning his attention back to the book.

"Are you alright?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" he snapped gruffly. "I'm fine."

"No, Dean, you're not."

Dean's head snapped up, "Let it go, Sam."

"I'm not going to let it go," he retorted. "You haven't really left the Bunker in three weeks, you keep looking through those books as if you've missed something, you're practically crawling up the walls."

"I said drop it."

Making a split-second decision, Sam quickly pulled up a search of anything weird deaths or missing persons within a three-state radius. The first couple seemed relatively normal, rowdy teenagers running from home or muggings gone wrong. His eyebrows rose as he read the fifth link, an article from some small town in South Dakota. You remember our three hikers? Good. That's them.

"I think I've got something," he said, hoping to catch Dean's attention. "A hiker went out into the woods a couple days back and found some bodies. No visible sign of death, but their eyes were burnt in their sockets. Sound familiar?"

Dean looked up once more, "Probably a rogue angel. Cas can handle it. He's been looking into that stuff lately."

"He's busy at the moment, chasing down a half-crazed Cherub," Sam corrected.

"What?"

Sam met his brother's eyes, seeing the confusion.

"When'd you talk to Cas?"

"Two days ago," Sam admitted hesitantly. "I was wondering if he heard anything on Abaddon while he was traveling around."

It was a lie, of course. But it was better than telling him that Cas had been periodically checking in with Sam to see how Dean was doing. The angel knew very well what the effects of the Mark of Cain could be. And after all he had done to help the Winchesters, he wanted to make sure they weren't doing anything unreasonably dangerous. But Dean would have a conniption fit if he knew.

Dean blinked for a few seconds before shrugging, "We can't just drop this. The trail could go cold."

"The trail's already gone cold," Sam scoffed. "Besides, we might find something when we get out there. Wouldn't you rather get out and kill something than sit in here and read more books?"

Dean paused, apparently thinking over the choice, and Sam gave a silent sigh of relief when his brother closed the book.

"Fine," he muttered, downing the rest of his whiskey as he stood up. "Let's go gank this son of a bitch."

As he walked through the door leading to the dorms, his left hand ghosted over the crook of his elbow once more. The motion didn't go unnoticed by Sam and the youngest Winchester gave a sigh of relief as he closed his laptop. Maybe, he hoped, the hunt would do Dean some good.

* * *

After a nine hour night drive that only took six, Sam and Dean pulled into Custer, South Dakota. It didn't take long to find the cheapest motel, a little two-star place called the Bavarian Inn, and the two brothers quickly paid for a room for the week. Lugging his bags into the room, Sam watched as Dean pulled out two suits and dug through an old tin to find the forged FBI badges they had. Sam dropped his duffels on the separate twin mattress and pulled out a couple of angel blades as his brother muttered under his breath.

"Damned motels…Probably have bedbugs."

"You've never complained before."

"That was before we started sleeping on memory foam mattresses."

Sam cracked a smile, something he hadn't done in a long time. The expression felt odd on his face as if it didn't belong. He quickly let it drop as Dean grabbed his suit and walked into the bathroom. Closing the blinds, Sam began to change. It was almost a routine now. Dean would normally take the bathroom, which was usually a bit too small for him to actually maneuver comfortably in. But it was better than Sam having to try and change into a suit within the small, confined bathroom. The last time he had tried, he had accidentally knocked down the shower curtain.

By the time Dean got out of the bathroom, Sam was digging through their fake ID's for something they hadn't used in a while. It was always best to mix up their aliases from time to time. After all, there are only so many time you can go by "John Bonham" before someone gets suspicious. The younger Winchester spared his brother a glance as he spoke.

"Any preferences?"

"Richard Tandy," Dean answered automatically. "You can be Jeff Lynne."

"Maybe I should pick a different name," Sam suggested. "Don't you think someone's going to notice two names from the same band?"

"Are you kidding? No one listens to good music anymore."

Sam rolled his eyes, handing his brother the card, "One day someone's going to figure it out."

"You worry too much," Dean snapped, though there was a teasing edge to his tone.

It was a fairly short drive to the police station, and the silence of the drive was only broken by the steady stream of Led Zeppelin and Def Leppard. It was slowly becoming the habit during drives between the two. Dean had grown bitter and silent since their confrontation with Metatron and Gadreel and Sam was still sore from Dean lying to him and being used as an angel vessel.

However, when they pulled into the parking, something caught both their eyes. Among the rows of black and white police cars was a burgundy '62 Pontiac Catalina convertible. The top was down, revealing the black, red, and white leather seats. Dean gave an appreciative whistle as he stepped out of the Impala.

"Look at that, Sammy," he said with a grin. "Someone loves that car."

Sam couldn't help a smile at Dean's clear amazement. But he was right. That '62 Catalina had been rebuilt practically from the ground up. Each piece had been meticulously searched for over a six-month period. The seats alone had been reupholstered three times for various reasons.

"Come on," Sam said, nudging his brother. "You can find out who owns it while we're reading over the report."

Dean spared the Pontiac one last glance before they walked inside. The police department was a rather small building with a few desks here and there in the sparse cubicles littering the room. A man roughly in his forties with graying brown hair approached them, looking very much at the end of his patience despite it only being eight in the morning.

"Morning," Dean said automatically, pulling out the FBI card. "Special Agents Tandy and Lynne. We're here for-"

"That hiker homicide, I know," he very nearly snapped, causing Sam to raise his eyebrows. "You with the other one?"

"Other one?"

"You're not the first," he answered, gesturing behind him.

Both boys craned their necks to see just where the man was pointing. In the back of the building, separated from the rest of the rooms by a glass wall, there was a little office. Inside, two people were sitting on opposite sides of a desk, talking animatedly. Or rather, the middle-aged chief of police was. Across from his was a young woman with chestnut brown hair pulled up in a carefully twisted knot. As he nodded, she stood up and took the file off his desk. Both Winchesters watched as she walked out.

As a first impression, most people would think she was very ordinary. That's not to say, however, that she wasn't beautiful in her own right. But hers was a face you could easily pass on the street and not truly think twice about. Her features were fairly unassuming, marked only by the strong cheekbones and defined jawline, on her heart-shaped face. Her brown eyes were glassy, reminiscent to that of a porcelain doll. But her suit was well-tailored and gave off the sense that she would tolerate no ridiculousness. In the slim, black slacks, crisp white shirt, and practical dress shoes, she radiated with professionalism.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she caught sight of the Winchesters, her fingers twitching around the manila folder in her hand. She approached the group, nodding towards the officer.

"I'll take it from here, thank you," she said dismissively, waiting for him to leave before turning her attention to Sam and Dean. "I don't recall requesting back up."

"We're just following orders, Agent-?" Sam said, flashing his badge with his brother.

"Forrest," she answered, looking almost amused at the badges. "Lynne and Tandy. Like the Electric Light Orchestra."

Sam gave Dean a sharp look, who looked slightly taken aback by the assumption, "Yeah. The Director thought it was hilarious."

"I'm sure," she answered. "Well, you boys pretty much came out here for nothing. It's pretty open and shut."

"It is?" Dean asked, sounding amused.'

Agent Forrest glanced over their shoulders, "Is that Chevy yours?"

Dean smiled, "Yeah."

"Mind if I take a look?"

Dean shrugged and the woman walked briskly out the door. Sam gave his brother a questioning glance, but said nothing as they followed her. Agent Forrest was leaning over slightly to get a better look at the interior, causing Dean to smirk. His mood was quickly rising with each minute.

"She's flawless," Forrest commented.

"So is yours," Dean replied. "I'm guessing the Catalina's yours."

The agent nodded, "She was a gift, practically a skeleton when I got her. She's got a V-8 engine with two four-barrel carburetors, four-speed automatic transmission, and four-wheel drum brakes. Two-hundred sixty-seven horsepower at 3,600 rpm."

Dean leaned close enough to the agent to mutter in her ear, "Now how did a Fed talk her boss into letting her drive that? Or, more likely, how did a hunter save up enough for a classic like that?"

She gave him a sharp look, "I'm sorry?"

"I know a hunter when I see one," he answered with a satisfied smirk. "You must come from money, though. Nice suit, nice car…"

"Dean," Sam warned, watching Agent Forrest's expression grow cold.

"And I now a wanted felon when I see one, Winchester," she replied.

The smirk fell from Dean's face and Sam stiffened at the accusation. Both knew exactly what was happening. Dean had gotten cocky and made an assumption which went horribly wrong. Neither really wanted to cause any trouble with a Federal agent, but they couldn't let her lock them up. Sam watched as Dean's hand reached into his jacket pocket, where he knew his brother kept an angel blade tucked away. He groaned internally, knowing that things were about to go very wrong.


	4. B17: Chapter Two

Now, dear readers, I know you're probably worried for our two protagonists, but you also know, deep down, they usually manage to escape harm's way with some miraculous luck. Honestly, I've never been certain where they got it from. Neither Atropos and her sisters nor I have ever shown quite _that_ much favoritism towards Sam and Dean. And yet they've always managed to swing things their way.

As it would happen, Agent Forrest was quite aware of who she was dealing with and what they were capable of. She also had a few cards up her sleeves, as well. She smiled inwardly as she saw the brothers tense. And though she was aware of some of their history, both fictional and real, and was actually hoping they might help. A quick job meant she could take a short break.

"You can relax," she said, eyeing Dean as his hand slipped into his jacket. "Normally, I'd lock you up and call in someone to cart you off. But an old friend of mine told me what you two actually do. He's dead now, and you two were the last to see him."

Sam visibly winced as both boys thought of the one obvious person she could have known: Victor Henriksen. It had been so long ago since they had thought of the agent and he was somewhat of a tabooed subject. That was, after all, the way with anyone who had died because of Sam and Dean.

"I'll let you help," she announced. "If you tell me how he died."

Dean gave her a long look, thinking carefully over their options, "Why should we trust you?"

"Why should _I _trust _you_?" she asked evenly. "I'm giving you an option. We can help each other, or I can have you arrested."

Before Dean could open his mouth to bark out a laugh, the two brothers noticed someone approaching. The stranger was only a few inches shorter than the Winchesters, but there was something definitely imposing about him. There was certainly something ageless about him, which both brothers immediately noticed. He, too, was wearing an expensive suit. Dark ginger hair was brushed back from his face, allowing full view of his strong features and blue eyes. The shape of his face was only highlighted by the prominent five o'clock shadow along his jaw. He gazed at both brothers for a minute, eyes raking over them as if staring into their souls, before turning to Agent Forrest.

"You called in for help?" he asked, strange accent tinting his words.

"No, they were sent here," she answered with a shake of her head. "Boys, this is my partner, Special Agent Zachary Engel."

Sam nodded respectfully, though something about Agent Engel troubled him, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Will they be joining this investigation?" he asked, addressing his partner while looking directly at Dean.

The elder Winchester offered a thin smile, "Yes, we will."

Forrest reached into her jacket and offered a business card, "Here. Give me a call if you need anything."

As Dean took the card, finally removing his hand from his jacket, Engel took his eyes off the hunter and glanced at the Impala.

"Your car?" he asked, not looking away.

"Yes, sir," Sam answered automatically.

There was an appreciative nod from the agent before he looked the younger Winchester dead in the eyes, "You could fit a body in that trunk."

Sam's eyes widened slightly at the words, taken aback by the matter-of-fact tone the man had. There was almost an accusatory edge to his tone. Dean, however, was able to recollect his composure before his brother.

"We're well aware of that, believe me."

It took all of his self-restraint for Sam to keep from smacking his brother. I think we can all agree that when faced with people in high places, Dean tends to take things a bit too far. It is the known fact of the world that he pushes his limits. But, instead of being surprised by the answer, the corners of Engel's lips pulled upward into a wolfish grin.

"I suppose we'll see you around," Agent Forrest announced, walking around to the driver side of her Catalina.

Sam smiled and gave a curt nod, watching as Engel opened the door and slipped easily onto the passenger seat. Both brothers watched as the car rolled out of the parking lot and down the road. Once out of sight, Sam turned to his brother with an unamused expression.

"_We're well aware of that_? Really, Dean?"

Dean gave a half-hearted shrug as he opened the driver-side door, "I was being honest."

"Yeah, I could see that."

It didn't take long for both brothers to fall into their usual driving silence as they headed back to their motel. However, while they were silent, Engel and Forrest's drive was the exact opposite.

Engel watched his partner out the corner of his eyes as her fingers tapped the beat of Depeche Mode's _Personal Jesus_ against the steering wheel. She spared him a glance before deciding to speak.

"Okay, spit it out."

"I have nothing to say," he replied.

"Zack, we've been working together for, what, nine years now?"

"Nine years, six months, two weeks, and five days," he corrected automatically.

"Same thing," she answered dismissively, causing him to smile. "I know when something's eating you."

"Dean Winchester."

She gave him a grin, "Cocky bastard, if the rumors are true. Which they seem to be. What about him?"

"He had an angel blade in his pocket."

"So do we," she pointed out.

"Kate, please be serious."

"I am being serious. Supposedly, he's been fighting off angels since 2009."

"It was the angel blade belonging to Zachariah."

A worried expression crossed Kate's face, "Friend of yours?"

Zack shook his head in disgust, "Pretentious, manipulative idiot. It's about time someone dispatched him."

"Then what has your wings in a knot?"

"These men, the Winchesters, they're dangerous. They've made deals with Death, killed innumerable angels, defeated both Michael and Lucifer-"

"I thought you hated Michael," she pointed out. "And never supported Lucifer."

"That doesn't dismiss the point," he snapped. "They most likely believe the same thing that we did when we noticed this case: that they're looking for an angel. Who do you think that will point them to?"

Kate paused, thinking over his words, "Zack, are you afraid of them?"

"I am worried," he amended. "For your safety."

"They don't even know what you are."

"Don't underestimate them. I've told you the rumors among the angels. They're bound to find out."

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," she replied, wanting to change the subject. "Did you find anything on the bodies?"

Zack gave a half-exasperated sigh before answering, "It wasn't an angel."

"Okay. Any idea what it is?"

He shook his head, "It's something ancient."

Kate nodded, though the prospects of what the creature could be troubled her, "Alright. We'll keep digging, then."

"Try not to do anything reckless."

"What? Where are you-?"

She glanced to her side to find the seat empty, the sound of wings beating lost in the wind.

"Damn it, Zack," she murmured, shaking her head angrily.

Let it be known, readers, that all angels have a tendency of flying off at the most inconvenient of times. No matter how close they are to a particular human.

But while our false FBI agents were having their little discussion, Sam and Dean had reached their motel. The older Winchester was already changing into a more comfortable shirt as his brother shrugged off his jacket. Thoughts of Agent Zack Engel still spun around in his head, though he couldn't say what it was about the man that bothered him.

"Hey, did that Engel guy seem strange to you?" he asked, glancing over at his brother.

"Do you mean in the way that he was staring at us like the Terminator or that he's got a twisted sense of humor?"

"No, something seemed…off about him."

Dean waved his hand dismissively, "I've said it before, I'll say it again: monsters are easy, humans are weird."

"Do you think we should trust them?"

Dean sighed as he collapsed onto one of the beds, grabbing the TV remote, "If they can make getting into places, getting answers from the people around here, and this entire hunt easier, I'm all for working together. The quicker we get this done, the sooner we can get back to looking for Abaddon."

Sam shook his head at his brother, eyes turning to the plaque on the nightstand proclaiming that _Casa Erotica_ was available on demand. The name caused him to internally wince. Before the trials and Metatron and the Mark of Cain, Dean would have practically announced it to the world. Now, it went unnoticed. All Dean could seem to care about these days was the hunt for Abaddon and taking down Metatron, if time allowed it. And Sam, of course.

Suddenly needing a minute away from his obsessive brother, Sam pulled his usual olive green jacket on and headed for the door. The sudden movement caught Dean's attention and he sat up slightly as he watched.

"Where're you going?"

"To find breakfast."

"Bring me back some pie!" Dean called as his brother shut the door.

* * *

Close to the edge of town, just as the sun was going down, a man walked along the torn-up sidewalks at a leisurely pace. A dark leather jacket and a black _Don't Tread on Me_ shirt clung comfortably to his chest. Faded and torn jeans hung low on his hips, the legs almost entirely obscuring the square-toed cowboy boots he wore. Mirrored aviators sat precariously on his hawk-like nose and his thin lips were stretched into a jaunty smile. In short, this man simply radiated with trouble.

It wasn't often that he came into town. In fact, most of Custer's population had only seen him a handful of times. But when he was seen, he was sauntering through the streets as if he owned the place.

The few pedestrians ambling around the place crossed the road as he approached, a deep, primeval instinct telling them to stay away from the stranger. His grin only widened as he watched them. Normally, he would revel in their fear, but he was looking for a specific person. Much to the surprise of his onlookers, he stopped before an old second-hand bookstore and glanced in. A gaze thrown over his shoulder caused them to go about their business once more and he traipsed through the door.

The little place was filled to the brim in bookshelves. They lined the walls and were placed in slightly crooked rows throughout the center floor. But they still could not keep all of the books within the shop. Not only were there ratty and curling books all along the shelves, but they were also in high, crooked piles on the floor. Behind a glass display case that doubled as a front desk, a woman with blonde hair as frizzy and voluminous as a lion's man stood. She had instantly straightened up as he walked in, not caring what anyone looked like so long as he or she was interested in purchasing one of her many novels.

"Can I help you with anything, sir?" she asked eagerly.

He smirked as he turned to face her, flashing two straight rows of very white teeth, "Yes, as a matter of fact, you can."

Her eyes lit up with the answer, "Is there a particular book you're looking for?"

"Not exactly, ma'am," he replied as he leaned against the display case. "I'm just looking for something new."

"Well, we have just about every genre here. Is there anything you're interested in?"

"Murder," he said, lingering over the last syllable.

If the woman behind the counter had been unaware of the circumstances before, something in the man's tone struck her as odd. She faltered for an instant before stuttering out a response.

"Oh, well, we have an entire corner of mystery books in the back left corner."

"Any in first-person?"

"I'm not entirely sure," she answered quietly, taking a step back as he leaned forward.

"Have you ever read a murder-mystery, Miss?"

"No," she said. "I prefer fantasy."

"Maybe you should branch out," he suggested. "Though some people say they're a bit monotonous. I suppose, in a way, they are. Someone is killed, an investigator looks into it, he or his love interest is threatened, and the murderer is caught."

"Oh?"

The man hummed in answer, "But there's something that is always unique to each one. Do you know what it is?"

The young woman shook her head, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the man's tone.

"The victim's reaction," he answered, pulling down his shades.

The scream could be heard out in the street, attracting several people meandering about at the time. But the only thing to be found inside the bookstore was one corpse with a mess of blonde hair and burnt eyes sockets.


	5. B17: Chapter Three

Dean woke up to the sound of a phone ringing, causing him to jolt up of the bed and grab the knife on the nightstand. He glanced around the empty motel room in anticipation, slowly realizing he was alone. There was a second as he ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to calm down. His eyes wandered slowly to the phone on his nightstand and he was hesitant to pick it up. The number on the screen came up unknown.

"Hello?"

"Dean," a semi-familiar voice sighed. "It's 'bout time you answered. I've already called twice."

"Agent Forrest?" he asked.

"Yes, now listen up. There's been another murder. Do you know where Wazi Lane is?"

"No."

There was an exasperated sigh, "Where are you?"

"The Bavarian Inn."

"…Okay. Follow North 5th Street until you hit Mount Rushmore Road. Turn left and keep going until you pass the Stage Stop. Turn left at the Pizza Hut and it'll be the building surrounded by cop cars, alright?"

"Yeah. We'll be there."

Instead of a goodbye, the call ended with a click. Dean rubbed his hands over his eyes as he wondered, not for the first time in the past two days, if he should find a way to get rid of the agent. He and Sam hadn't spoken much to her, of course. But Dean didn't quite like her.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was he found so off-putting about Agent Forrest. There was something vaguely familiar about her, and yet he knew he had never met her before in his life. She was too sharp, too knowledgeable of the supernatural world, to not be a hunter. And the partner she worked with was just a few flower-shaped pineapple slices away from an Edible Arrangements bouquet in Dean's eyes. He wasn't quite right, that much could be said. It was in the way he walked, the way he spoke, the way he acted.

Just as he was pulling on his jacket, a thought struck him. His fingers closed around the stiff paper of Agent Forrest's business card in his pocket. She had given him her number. His gaze turned to the phone on the nightstand.

The door of the motel room swung open and Dean's attention snapped to his little brother walking in. Sam stopped short at the expression on his brother's face.

"What?"

"Did you give Agent Forrest our numbers?"

Sam blinked in confusion, "Why would I give our number to a Fed?"

"Well, she got it somehow," he announced. "Just got off the phone with her. There's been another killing and she wants us there."

Sam blinked slightly at his brother, the plastic bag of food swinging from his fingers forgotten under the weight of the comment. Despite this, Dean was up and pulling on his shoes. It was only within the Bunker that he slept in what could somewhat pass as pajamas. Anywhere else, he remained fully-clothed in case of emergency. He slapped Sam on the back of the shoulder as he walked out.

"Let's go, Sammy. Better not keep Forrest waiting."

Sam sighed in resignation, pulling a foil-wrapped sandwich from the bag before tossing it onto the table and walking out. It seemed breakfast was going to be skipped unless he could manage eating in the car without making a mess.

The ride to Wazi Lane was fairly short, as traffic was sparse in Custer. But Dean remained silent for the length of the trip. The only sign that he was feeling a little more like himself was the occasional side-eye he gave Sam as the younger Winchester tried to minimize the amount of shredded lettuce falling out of his sandwich.

Their destination was surrounded in black and cream cop cars, lights flashing erratically as uniformed men and women cluttered the area like ants. Agent Forrest stood on the edge of the sidewalk, her tailored suit contrasting against the cheap blue of the officer's uniforms. She nodded at the Winchesters as they stepped out onto the pavement and took a sip from the Starbucks cup in her hand.

"Where's your partner?" Dean asked as they approached her.

"He's on the other side of town, checking out a potential lead."

"I thought this case was 'pretty open and shut'?"

The agent shrugged, "Turns out I was wrong. The body's still inside. I thought it might be closer to your area of expertise."

She motioned for them to follow her and the trio walked into the bookstore. The place was empty of police, but the signs of their immediate investigation were clear. Behind the glass counter was the unmistakable figure of a woman with messy, blonde hair. She was sprawled across the floor like a discarded marionette. If puppets were to have burnt-out eyes and pools of blood beneath them, that is.

"I had the cops clear out for a little more privacy," Agent Forrest explained. "Figured this conversation was better held away from the rest of the department."

Sam and Dean walked over to get a better look at the woman on the floor, looking for some sign of what had happened. Kate spoke as they examined the body.

"There was no sign of forced entry. Bystanders reported sightings of a dark-haired man in a leather jacket and sunglasses, but we can't find anyone in this town who can identify the man. If she was a victim of the same killer as the hikers, her internal organs will be burnt to a crisp. If you two have any ideas as to what did this, I'm all ears."

Sam stood up as his brother began to poke around the rest of the store. He looked Agent Forrest up and down as he tried to determine just how much she actually knew. She was mature and looked as though she lived her life as straightforward as she could. But there was also a hardened edge to her. He could see the expression in her eyes of someone who had been chewed up and spit out by the world. The way she held herself spoke of being shoved to the point where she no longer took disrespect from anyone. But in the reserved suit she wore, he could see no sign of the tell-tale scars that came with the life of a hunter.

"How much do you know about the supernatural, Agent?"

"Enough," she answered shortly.

"We think it's an angel," Dean announced from behind one of the shelves.

She shook her head, "It's not an angel."

"They're not as sweet as you would think," the eldest Winchester shot back.

"I have it from a very reliable source," she said, raising her voice so he could hear her.

"What source?" Sam asked curiously.

Kate offered him a wry smile, "An anonymous one who's extremely familiar with angels."

"I found something!" Dean announced before Sam could reply.

Both walked over to where Dean kneeled with the back door ajar. Jammed between the carpet and the doorjamb was something dark and smooth. Both stooped down to look at the object.

"Is that-?"

"A scale," Dean finished.

"It's too big for any reptile native to these parts," Kate remarked, glancing at the brothers.

"Lamia?" Sam suggested.

"I thought Lamia were in Greece."

Dean gave the agent an almost pitying smile, "Monsters haven't really been paying attention to locations since 2010. Can't be a Lamia, though, or she'd look more like a human brisket."

"One of the hiker's chest was clawed open," she informed them.

"But Lamia don't fry you extra crispy," Dean pointed out.

"We could make a few calls," Sam suggested as he reached to pull the scale out. "See if anyone else – ach!"

Sam dropped the scale as it burned red hot. The skin of his fingers turned red and he clenched his hand to his chest. The scale disintegrated into a pile of ash as it hit the ground. Kate gave an exasperated sigh and stood up.

"Perfect," she muttered. "At least that crosses off another thing it could be."

"It still could be an angel," Sam pointed out, though his comment was mostly directed towards Dean. "We never did see all the weapons of Heaven. There could've been-"

"Weapons of Heaven?" Kate interrupted, staring at the two incredulously.

"Long story," Dean murmured.

"I've got t-"

"Agent Forrest!"

All three turned to look at the front door as one of the younger officers stood in the doorway. There was a black eye forming on his face and blood was trickling from a cut on his lip.

"We've got a bit of a problem," he continued, glancing apologetically at them. "There's a man outside claiming to be the fiancé of the victim. He's in a bit of a state. We had to restrain him."

Kate nodded and walked out after the officer, leaving the two Winchesters to scramble after her. There was a young man with mousy brown hair sitting in the open door of one of the cop cars, a nasty scrape on his forehead. As he saw the group coming out, he leapt to his feet and pushed past the police.

"Agent!" he yelled, rushing towards them. "Agent, please!"

Kate stopped, looking at the man with an expression of somber understanding. She remained silent, though, and soon schooled her face into a look of impassiveness. Sam and Dean stopped a few feet behind the agent to watch, unsure of whether they were supposed to leave or not.

"Please. Can I – if I could just see her…"

"I'm sorry. We can only allow the pathologist to have any dealings with the victim. We can't afford to compromise any evidence that may or may not be on the body."

"But maybe, if I-I-I take a look…it could help," he stammered, looking more crestfallen with each passing minute. "I mean, you're no closer to catching this guy."

"We're doing everything we can to apprehend the murderer," she assured.

"You people have been running in circles since Molly and them turned up dead in the woods," he scoffed. "How many else are gonna drop dead because you can't do your job."

There was a flicker of annoyance in the Agent's eyes as she snapped at the man, "Perhaps our jobs wouldn't be so difficult if it wasn't for the ridiculous associates of the victims who are so blinded by their grief that they do everything in their ability to impede the investigation and yet you have the sheer audacity to blame the agents and officers actually assigned to the case. My job would be a hell of a lot easier if you'd remember your place. Your quote unquote 'caring' doesn't bring your girlfriend back from the dead."

Sam winced as he heard the crack of a hand clipping the side of the agent's face. Kate stood frozen, her eyes shut tight as she internally counted to ten. She had to wait, had to get her temper under control, or they would see something that would immediately cause them to suspect her. So when she opened her eyes to look at the man and they flashed strangely, only the fiancé saw.

Before anyone could move, she gripped his arm and whirled him around. He was pressed against the side of the nearest car, his arm wrenched up behind his back as Kate held him in place. Both Sam and Dean took an automatic step forward, but stopped as they realized she was no longer moving. The agent took another pause for breath before speaking.

"Never assault a woman," she breathed, enunciating each word carefully. "Much less an agent. Do yourself a favor and don't antagonize me again."

Without waiting for an answer, Kate pulled back away from the man and straightened her black tie. She offered the rest of the officers a warning glance before walking across the street where her Catalina was parked. No one made a move as she drove off.

"Someone has a temper," Dean muttered.

"Did anything about that seem off to you?" Sam asked.

"You mean how she completely flipped and drove off like a bat out of Hell? Yeah. Kinda hard not to."

"Not that," the younger Winchester said with a shake of his head. "After he hit her, she almost seemed like she was holding back."

Dean looked at him skeptically, "I think it's time you got your eyes checked."

Sam rolled his eyes and followed his brother once more. But he wouldn't forget the look on Kate's face just before she retaliated.


	6. B17: Chapter Four

"Find anything yet?"

Sam did his best not to give his brother a look. It wasn't enough, but Dean didn't notice. They had been researching for a little over three hours on anything that could possibly match their monster. Sam had been focusing on the wider spectrum while Dean still remained sure that they were looking for some rank of angel.

"I don't care what Forrest said," he had snapped when Sam had reminded him of what the agent told them. "I don't trust her. Something about her isn't right."

And so Dean was at the little motel table, surrounded by library books on theology, while Sam searched what he could on the internet. But the eldest Winchester wasn't very patient when it came to research and had continuously asked for updates every fifteen minutes.

"No, I haven't," Sam answered as casually as possible. "You?"

Dean slammed the book shut and tossed it onto the pile of other discarded texts, "A hell of a lot on several types of angels that we've never heard of, but nothing that sounds like ours. Maybe we should ask Cas."

"Cas is busy, remember?"

"Cas is always busy. Doesn't stop him from coming when we call."

Sam bit back a remark as to why that might be, deciding not to start on the tabooed subject. Instead, he watched silently as Dean rocked back on the crooked chair.

"Cas, we need you, man. So hightail your feathery ass over here, will ya?"

"You shouldn't pray," the familiar voice said, causing both to look up at the trench coat-wearing angel in the door. "Every angel can hear you now."

"So angel radio's all on the same frequency now," Dean remarked. "Good to know."

"What is it you need?" Cas asked with a dogged expression. "I'm busy."

"I told him," Sam said. "Dean thinks we've got an angel problem."

"Any angels you know of with scales?" Dean asked, pulling out one of the books and opening it. "It says here that a few have snake heads in their true forms."

"Scales?" the blue-eyed angel repeated, frowning.

"We found a scale at one of the crime scenes," Sam explained.

Cas shook his head, "Humans are incapable of perceiving an angel's true form or any aspect of it. It could not have been an angel."

Sam gave his brother a pointed look as if to say 'I told you so'. But Dean merely shrugged.

"So Forrest's source was right. The question now is where'd she get that source."

"I don't think I follow," Cas announced.

"Agent Forrest," Sam clarified as Dean pulled a small business card out of his pocket and tossed it onto the table. "A woman from the FBI who's working on this case. She's not…"

The youngest Winchester trailed off as he noticed the angel was no longer paying attention. Instead, Cas seemed to be squinting slightly at the card Dean had tossed onto the table. He slowly ambled over towards the table and picked up the stiff paper. Dean shot Sam a questioning glance before returning his attention to the angel. Cas turned the card over in his hands, looking at it as if he couldn't quite see it. He ran his thumb over the back of it and a bright red symbol bloomed to life over the empty surface.

Both Winchesters stood up to get a better look as Cas took on a strange expression on his face. It contorted his features slightly, resting oddly on his face as if it didn't belong. If they hadn't known better, the two would have thought he almost looked surprised. Sam tried to remember if he had seen the symbol before, mentally going through every rune and sigil he could think of. None of them seemed quite right. Dean, however, was the first one to speak.

"What is that?"

Cas's frown deepened, "It's High Enochian."

"Angel speak," Dean noted. "What does it say?"

The angel gave him an unamused look, "No one speaks High Enochian. It was the language of God. There are only five angels who speak it. Two are dead and two are in Hell."

"And the fifth?" Sam asked.

"Metatron."

Dean gave a sardonic laugh, "Great. So it could be some wrath of God crap and we wouldn't have a clue."

"How would an FBI agent end up with High Enochian on her card?" Sam pointed out.

"One way to find out," his brother replied, pulling his phone out and quickly dialing a number. "Listen. It's Dean Winchester."

As Dean took a few steps towards the door, Cas looked to Sam. When he spoke, it was soft enough to make sure the conversation was kept between them.

"How is he?"

Sam gave a half-hearted shrug, "Same as usual. He's been on edge since finding the First Blade. But there's something else. He's been…I don't know, distracted for a while. Like he's not quite here."

"It's the Mark. He should have never resorted to something so foolish."

Sam nodded in agreement, "I'll let you know if there's something else."

The angel shook his head, "I will stay here for a few days. Perhaps Metatron has something to do with this."

"I'm going out," Dean announced suddenly as he pulled on his jacket.

Both Sam and Cas looked up, startled by the remark.

"Out where?" Sam asked incredulously.

"To get a drink!" he called, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

The bar was relatively empty, just the way Kate liked them. It was just a little hole in the wall that only the locals knew about and was the perfect place to overhear gossip. An investigation could only lead you so far, as she had learned long ago, and the town's chatter would lead you deeper. But her intention wasn't to listen in for possible information. She was in a piss-poor mood and planned to drink away the problem.

The bruise from the man's hand earlier that morning had faded completely by mid-afternoon. But it was the man himself that troubled her. She didn't think he had any relevance to the case besides being the victim's fiancé, but his actions had dragged old memories up out of the corners she had shoved them into. They were memories she never wanted to linger over again. So she threw back another shot and closed her eyes.

"Bad day?" an amused voice said.

Too lost in thought to have full control, Kate moved a little too quickly when she glanced up. But Dean didn't notice as he pulled one of her shot glasses closer. He inspected the contents curiously.

"What are these, anyway?"

"They're apparently called 'Granny Mays'. But I don't remember why," she answered. "Don't let 'em hit your tongue or they'll knock you on your ass."

"Good to know," he said before downing the contents quickly.

It wasn't long before Dean fell into a fit of coughing as he put the glass down. Kate offered him nothing more than a laugh as he managed to regain his composure. Taking advantage of the moment, Dean looked over the agent curiously. Her professional exterior had been stripped away and there was a softer edge to her expression. Her suit jacket and tie lay discarded on the stool beside her and the sleeves of her white dress shirt had been rolled up to her elbows. The first couple buttons on her shirt were open, revealing a silver eye of Horus necklace. But Dean's eyes were more drawn towards the stark black lines of a tattoo on the inside of her left wrist. It looked vaguely East Asian, but he had never been good with languages.

"I didn't know FBI agents could have tattoos," he remarked.

"You'd be surprised how many agents have tattoos," she replied. "And you can call me Kate."

"What does it say?"

"It's _shinnen_, Kanji for 'faith'."

"Is there a story behind that?"

Kate glanced over him carefully, wondering what he was playing at. But as he threw back another shot, she wondered if maybe he was just being friendly. She quickly decided she didn't care either way.

"There's a story behind all of my tattoos," she said.

Dean nearly choked on his shot, "You have more?"

"Can't a girl have tattoos?"

"You just didn't strike me as the type."

"What about you?"

"Just one," he laughed, pulling down his collar just far enough to see the pentagram wrapped in sunrays.

"A bit satanic, isn't it?"

"It's an anti-possession tattoo," he explained. "Keeps demons out."

Kate shook her head, pulling the hem of her shirt up slightly to reveal two lines of familiar writing, "Angel warding in Enochian."

"It keeps them from tracking you?"

"Yeah. But it also blinds them. They can't see me unless I let them know I'm there."

Dean gave her a disbelieving look, "Why would you want to hide from angels?"

Kate's expression suddenly took on an unwelcoming edge, "It's a long story."

"I've got time."

"Don't push your luck, Winchester."

Normally, Dean would have ignored her warning and continued on with his line of questioning. But there was a distinct tone in her voice that seemed to put him off the subject. It was almost as if he no longer cared about the reason behind the warding. Instead, he decided to push forward with the topic he had originally intended to bring up.

"Speaking of Enochian, you know you have it written on the back of that business card you gave me," he noted. "And not just any Enochian, but High Enochian, which apparently is a dead language."

Kate stopped as the glass touched her lips. She glanced sideways at Dean, putting down the glass, as she internally cursed what she was about to do. He met her gaze evenly when she turned to face him fully.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied slowly, enunciating each word carefully. "The back of that card was blank."

Dean's head felt fuzzy, but he blamed the shots and tried to shake it off. It did little to clear his head.

"It may have been to you, but not to me."

Kate blinked at him in surprise, shocked by his response. But she grit her teeth and tried again.

"There was nothing on the back of the card I gave you."

Dean internally grimaced as his head swam. He shouldn't have drunk quite so much, he decided. Whatever was in those shot glasses had been stronger than he had expected.

"That's what it looked like at first," he explained. "But a friend of mine made it visible. Is there any way an angel could have gotten his hands on those cards?"

Kate automatically stumbled off her stool and grabbed her belongings, taken aback by his words. She dug through her pockets quickly, pulling out her wallet and placed a couple twenty dollar bills on the bar.

"Excuse me," she said dismissively in Dean's direction. "I have to leave."

Before Dean could say or do anything, she had walked across the bar and out the door. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he hit the familiar name in his contacts. He was already at the door when Sam answered.

"Dean?"

"Yeah. Listen, I need you to come out here. Something's up with Agent Forrest."

"Out where?"

"To 537 Mt. Rushmore Road. Have Cas bring you. I'm going to follow her."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I don't know. But she's got some weird problem with angels, like she's running from them."

"We're on our way."

Dean hung up and quickly hopped into the Impala. It was only after he pulled out of the bar's parking lot that Cas and Sam appeared in the backseat. But he barely paid attention as they badgered him with questions. He was more intent on following the burgundy Pontiac Catalina disappearing down the road.

Kate was in just as much of a frenzy as Dean was, though for very different reasons. She fumbled with her phone before dialing a number. The call was picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"We've got a problem, Zack."

"What sort of problem?"

"They've seen the sigil on their card," she explained.

There was a pause before Zack answered, "You know how to fix that."

"I tried," she muttered irritably. "But it didn't work. On Dean Winchester, I mean. I haven't seen his brother, yet. We need to get out of here. They've brought their angel. It's the only way they could have found it. And the last thing we need is an angel this close."

"I thought you trusted the Winchesters?"

"I never said that," she pointed out. "I thought they could speed up this hunt. Now we just need to get the hell out of dodge."

"I've found out what monster we're looking for," he announced, causing her to swear under her breath. "We have two choices: leave now and hope the Winchesters figure it out before it kills anyone else or finish this tonight and leave immediately after."

Kate internally cursed at how well he knew her. He knew she wouldn't run off when they were this close. Self-preservation instincts be damned – there was no way she would quit now.

"Meet me in those woods just outside our hotel, alright?" she said with a sigh.

"Yes," he answered as he hung up.

Giving one last glance towards her rearview mirror, Kate pressed her foot a little harder on the gas pedal. It didn't look like anyone was following her. But she would rather not take that chance.


	7. B17: Chapter Five

"Dean, what is going on?"

Castiel watched the brothers curiously as Sam leaned over the seat and spoke to his brother. Dean was focused entirely on the road before him as he ignored the speed limit.

"Kate – Agent Forrest – isn't from the FBI."

"She told you that?"

"No, but no one running from angels would keep a stable job," Dean remarked. "She's got to be a hunter."

"Why would angels be after a hunter?"

Sam turned his head to look at Cas as Dean glanced at the angel through the rearview mirror. Cas met both of their gazes before shaking his head in answer of their unspoken question.

"I know of no reason why this Kate would be sought after."

"Well, she went running for the hills the second I mentioned the possibility of an angel being here," Dean remarked.

"How do we know if that's her real," Sam pointed out. "We can't figure out why she's trying to hide if we don't know who she is."

"The angels are too preoccupied with fighting each other to worry about one human," Cas informed them.

"Maybe she's not human."

The car rang with silence at Sam's suggestion. Neither Dean nor Cas knew how to respond to the possibility. Dean suddenly turned to Cas, but the angel shook his head again.

"There would be no reason for us to hunt down a monster or a demon. That has always been the responsibility of hunters."

"Leading us back to square one," Dean muttered. "Do you think she could be the one killing people?"

"What would that make her, though?" Sam asked. "I mean, what's scaly and torches the inside of its victims?"

"I don't know," the elder Winchester answered, before realizing he had lost the Catalina. "Damn it! She's gone."

Sam glanced around as Dean slowed down, all three searching their surroundings for the car. It only took a minute for Sam to notice the burgundy car pulling into a parking space at the hotel before them.

"Dean, there."

Dean nodded as he spotted the car and turned into the parking lot as Kate got out of her car. He pulled in behind an old van from the 70's that was just big enough to hide the Impala, watching her intently.

Kate leaned into her car and dug around in her glove box, her tie lay discarded on the passenger seat. She pulled out a handful of silver and iron rings before slipping them onto her fingers. As she still wasn't sure what they were going up against, she figured she couldn't be too prepared. She shut the driver's side door and walked around to the trunk. Unlocking the false bottom, Kate dug through the rows of weapons and odds and ends she occasionally needed before pulling out an angel blade and a gun.

She stopped moving for a minute, the cool metal of the blade making her blood sing. The heartbeats of every human within a half-mile radius hummed softly in her ears. How long had it been, she wondered, since she last killed? Two weeks, maybe three? Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Kate tried to force away the small part of her that whispered how easy it would be to pick someone in the hotel. She was hyperaware of three people not too far from where she stood.

_Tonight_, she thought as she grit her teeth. She didn't want to hurt anyone. And there was a monster to be killed that night. That would slake her lust for a while. She gave another sigh and shoved aside the thoughts of the people around her. Tucking the handgun into the waistband of her pants and the blade into the inside pocket of her jacket, she focused on her task.

Sparing one last glance around, Kate locked up her car and walked out across the grass towards the tree line. It was already dark, the only light coming from the waning moon, but she could see well enough. She pulled out her phone and sent two words: _I'm here_. The soft sound of footsteps caught her attention and she spun around. She couldn't make anything out through the maze of trunks, but there didn't seem to be anything there.

Sam peeked back around the tree trunk as Kate turned around and continued walking. His hand tightened on the angel blade he held and the three made their way after her. A hand on his shoulder caused Sam's attention to snap back to his brother. Dean's gaze was on Cas, who had gone still and had turned his head up to the sky. The angel's blue eyes were narrowed as if looking at the sun.

"Cas?" Dean breathed, hoping for an answer.

The angel disappeared, the soft sounds of wing beats following him. A wordless exclamation sounded above them and both boys ducked as two bright streaks of light crashed into the ground before them. They stood up quickly, arms at the ready, to see Kate picking herself off the floor as well.

Cas stood with his backs to them, blade in hand, as he faced down a man who looked vaguely familiar. It took Sam a minute to recognize the man Kate had said was her partner the morning before. But he wasn't simply imposing that night. Though it was only a fraction of a second before he attacked Cas, the Winchesters noticed how his blue eyes changed as they began to glow golden.

"Oh, Hell no," Kate snapped, pulling the blade from her jacket and running towards the two angels.

Sam and Dean stood, shocked into stillness, as the woman grabbed Cas by his coat collar and dragged him off Zack. She spun him around, driving the gleaming knife towards his chest. Cas blocked the blow and pushed her aside, sending her colliding into a tree trunk. Apparently, that was only a mistake, as Zack immediately became enraged and skewered Cas through the shoulder.

"Cas!" Dean yelled, leaping to his feet and after the two.

Sam cursed under his breath, running after his brother. Zack had just pulled his blade from Cas's shoulder when the Winchesters converged on him. Before Sam could slice into the angel, a hand closed around his arm tight enough to bruise him. He turned to see Kate, but was surprised to see glowing silver eyes instead of her usual brown.

"Don't touch my angel, you bastard," she growled, her fist colliding with his cheek.

Sam tumbled backwards, groaning as he collided with what seemed to be a fallen tree. Rough bark dug into his back as she advanced on him, her movements too quick for a human. His vision swam for a minute, giving Kate enough time to grab him by collar and pull him up. He caught a glimpse of Dean struggling to hold his own against Zack over her shoulder before she slammed him into the tree behind them. Sam groaned in pain, his hands scrabbling at her wrists as she closed her fingers around his throat.

The pressure disappeared and he slumped down to the ground with a wheeze. He blinked rapidly until his vision cleared, revealing Cas holding Kate to his chest. She was still facing Sam, but her eyes were focused on the angel behind her as she tried to keep the angel blade from piercing her skin. Her hand slipped a millisecond and the tip pressed into her throat, causing her to cry out.

Ten feet away, Zack froze just as he made to kill Dean. All three turned to look at Cas and Kate. A look of thinly veiled fear flickered through the other angels face before he dropped the angel blade and schooled his features into a look of calm.

"Castiel, brother," he said softly, an almost pleading edge to his voice. "Let her go."

"Who are you?" Cas demanded.

Disbelief overcame Zack's face, "Surely Naomi did not erase me completely. Minds can be rewritten, but never completely."

Cas narrowed his eyes at the angel, "What are you talking about?"

Dean and Sam exchanged glances at the conversation. But they decided it was a wiser move to simply listen.

"Don't you remember me?"

The Winchesters flinched slightly as a brilliant light filled the woods. Sam could have sworn he saw the shadow of six wings on the ground as he squinted. The light died down and they were able to see the clear confusion on Cas's face.

"That's impossible. You cannot be real."

"You know that isn't true," Zack said ruefully. "Do you still not remember? Think back to a beach. The world was empty then. We walked on that beach thoughtlessly until I stopped you where you stood and told you, 'don't step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish'."

Cas grimaced slightly, as if the memory was painful to recall. Zack took a cautious step forward.

"Let me help you," he said. "Just let her go."

Cas hesitated, though he didn't let go of Kate. She glanced back at him through the corner of her eyes, which were once again brown.

"Do as he says, Castiel," she said, her voice edged with something Sam couldn't name. "Let me go."

Cas's blue eyes seemed unfocused as she spoke and he sluggishly dropped his arms. Dean stared at him incredulously.

"Cas!"

Cas blinked slowly, his expression changing from complacency to bewilderment. But Kate was already at Zack's side once more. The older angel looked over her carefully before speaking in a flowing language that sounded vaguely like Enochian.

"_Ils nonco vohri chdr zamran gah io_," he hissed in a patronizing voice. _I thought you said it's only been a week_.

"_Vin maasi abramg balit. Zora vohim_," she replied with a noncommittal shrug. _It's been closer to three. That's progress._

Zack gave an exasperated groan, but the conversation was cut short as Dean snapped.

"What the hell are you two?"

"How can you travel with an abomination?" Cas demanded, looking to Zack.

Kate's attention snapped to him, "Watch yourself, seraph. My patience isn't exactly saintly at the moment."

"Enough," Zack said, tone commanding. "She is under my protection, Castiel. You will respect that."

"You would protect this…this monster?"

Sam looked between the two angels as both looked equally irate. But then he noticed Kate. She looked enraged for only a second before a look overtook her face that he knew very well. There was a sort of helpless acceptance in her eyes and she looked away from Cas.

"Kate?" Sam said. "What are you?"

Kate turned her attention to the youngest Winchester, ready to shout out a retort for the question. But she stopped when she saw how he looked at her. It wasn't in anger or confusion or disgust. He looked at her in the same way he looked at the friends of the victims they questioned on other hunts: with a quiet understanding. The barbed words died on her lips and she contemplated actually giving him the answer.

"She's a Nephilim."

Kate flinched slightly at the word, acknowledging the hard edge in Cas's voice as he said it. But she seemed cold and withdrawn in the next minute as if she wasn't truly there. Zack placed a hand on her shoulder, though it was difficult to tell if the gesture was meant to hold her back or comfort her. Both Sam and Dean stiffened at the term, recognizing it from their research earlier. There hadn't been much on the subject, but what was there wasn't pleasant.

"This is a conversation best held elsewhere," Zack pointed out, his steely blue eyes on Cas.

"Where would you suggest we go?" Cas asked, though the words were dripping in distrust.

The older angel cast a glance towards the Winchesters before returning his attention to Cas, "Follow me."

In the blink of an eye, they were gone. No sign of their presence there remained in the woods. Though a few stray hikers would wonder at the strange indentions in the trees, no one else would know that two Hunters, two angels, and one Nephilim had stood there previously.


	8. B17: Chapter Six

The second the Winchesters realized they were no longer in the forest, they were on their guard once again. Despite the seemingly safe surrounding provided by the spacious hotel room, neither of the boys were ready to drop their weapons just yet. Even Cas kept his blade in hand as he watched Kate walk to the mini fridge. She pulled out a small bottle of bourbon and looked towards Sam and Dean.

"Anyone else need a drink?"

"_Ergo nietp malee eclam deo_?" Zack asked irately. _Haven't you had enough to drink?_

Cas squinted at the other angel as he reverted to the strange, lilting language that only he and Kate seemed to know. It was a gesture that she did not miss, though her focus was primarily on her angel.

"I think your brother would prefer it if we spoke a language he can understand," she pointed out. "And if they're going to start asking questions, then no, I haven't."

She downed the small bottle without so much as a blink. Dean raised his eyebrows at the action. It wasn't often that he saw someone to drink bourbon like it was soda. But Kate seemed to be neither effected by it nor troubled by it. Deciding that wasn't entirely relevant, Dean pushed the thought out of his mind.

"So, you're not human," he snapped, watching her carefully.

"I'm half-human," she spat back, looking irritated at his comment. "Do your research."

"We have," Sam muttered. "That's why you're running from angels, isn't it?"

She offered a mock smile, "Ask your halo on a leash why I have to run from his kind."

"Your kind is a race of monsters," Cas growled, shocking both Winchesters with the anger in his tone. "Bloodthirsty beasts that cannot be controlled, not even by your creators. You should all be eradicated."

"Castiel!" Zack snapped, drawing the younger angel's attention. "Have some respect."

"For this anathema?" Cas demanded.

"For the victim of our mistakes," Zack corrected.

"Why do you protect such a creature?"

"She's not the monster you believe her to be."

Cas snapped his attention to Kate, looking past the physical image presented by his human vessel and into her soul. She shifted slightly under his scrutiny, knowing exactly what he was doing. To return the favor, she focused her attention on peeling back the façade to gaze upon his true form. Anger stormed in his blue eyes as he realized what she was doing. But he didn't speak of the disrespectful gesture when he returned his gaze to his brother.

"She has the blood of many tainting her soul."

"So do you and your friends," Kate retorted. "The apocalypse, the monster fiasco back in 2010, the Leviathan takeover, the angels falling – you think I don't hear the rumors of what you've done? How many have died for your mistakes?"

"They were, as you've said, mistakes," Cas answered, peering down his nose at the Nephilim. "Your kind seeks out bloodshed."

"Says the angel who killed how many on his psycho rampage three years ago," she spat, walking towards him until her face was only inches from his. "I always hated that about you angels. You pretend to be so pure, incapable of any sin. But your kind slays humans simply for getting in the way. Yes, I've killed people, innocent people, but at least I _try_ to go for the monsters and murderers first. At least I'm not self-righteous about it. Take a good look at your own soul before you judge mine."

Cas bristled at her implication, causing both Winchesters to step back. They had never seen their angel quite so angry before. It made them wonder what he would do given the chance. Not wanting one or the other to snap and start a fight, Dean put in his own two cents.

"If you hate angels, why do you travel with one?"

Everyone turned their attention to Dean as his words rang through the silence. He gestured towards Zack with his angel blade, but made no move to come closer. The last thing he wanted to do was antagonize anyone any more than they already were.

"He saved my life nine years ago," she answered. "I owe him. Besides, he's not the same."

"Why didn't you tell us you weren't human?"

Kate's gaze snapped to Sam as he finished his question. She looked vaguely resentful towards his choice of wording, but said nothing on it. Even Zack seemed to grow angered at his question.

"I knew you'd either assume that I'm the one killing people or you'd try to kill me," she replied. "I know how Hunters think. Hell, I am one for all intents and purposes."

"You hunt monsters?" Dean asked incredulously.

"It's a productive way to kill without hurting anyone human."

"You like the killing?" Sam wondered aloud.

Kate gave him a hard look, "I don't like killing and I don't want to kill, but I _need_ to. To crave bloodshed, it's the flaw in our design that the angels never anticipated. It's a compulsion you can't fully get rid of, only deter for a little while."

Dean blinked in confusion, "It's like vampirism?"

"I don't drink blood, Winchester," she grumbled. "It's just a need to bring about carnage – a never-ending hunger for the feeling of violence."

"So you're jonesing for another kill?" he pushed.

"Doing everything I can to keep from ripping out your throats," she replied, not looking altogether pleased with the fact.

Sam frowned at the thought, "What's stopping you?"

"It can be put off," Zack explained, "but only for a limited time. Such a feat takes great concentration and self-discipline." – he turned his gaze on his brother – "Another reason I respect her."

Kate nodded in agreement, "Besides, I already said I don't want to kill more than I have to. It's why I was out in the woods. Zack's found out what we're hunting."

"You've figured out what's dropping bodies?"

"Just because I'm a Nephilim, doesn't mean I don't like watching people die."

"Well then, we're all ears," Dean said sarcastically.

The elder angel hesitated, watching the brother carefully. It seemed that they functioned almost independently with no one being able to rein anyone back. Zack didn't trust Dean – neither did he trust Sam – as he had heard rumors of what the Michael sword had done in his time. The righteous man was not so just when you looked into his history. And Sam's track record wasn't much better.

But he knew Kate wanted to work with them, if only in the hopes that they would speed along the hunt. He found that his outlook on the two brothers paled in comparison to his distrust of the angel they fought with. Zaphkiel had mixed feelings towards Castiel. He could remember the times when the world had been new, when Cas had been a young and naïve and had looked up to his older brother with wonder and respect. Now it seemed Cas was incapable of recognizing him, too far gone after what Naomi had done to him, and wasn't too keen on his older brother's choice in companion. It was a mutual feeling.

"We're looking for a basilisk," he said, meeting Dean's gaze.

"Like Harry Potter?" Kate and Dean asked simultaneously, causing them to glower slightly at each other.

Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother. He wondered, not for the first time, when Dean had found the time to watch so many things when they had lived on the road practically their whole lives. Cas even seemed vaguely confused about the reference, though for an entirely different reason.

"Yes and no," Zack answered. "It may go by the same name, but it is something of a shapeshifter. A giant snake is only one of the forms it can take, and it doesn't petrify its victims."

"Well yeah, every victim we've come across was burnt from the inside out," Kate remarked.

"That's the point of interest," he explained, only glancing her way for a second. He wasn't about to put any faith in the Winchesters. "When you meet its eyes, it feeds off your guilt and your soul burns. The basilisk is an ancient creature, originally born out of a witch's need to take revenge on those who've wronged her. Its only seeking out those who feel guilt."

"So, we're looking for a witch, too?" Dean asked incredulously.

Kate shook her head, "I've already checked the victims, they weren't even remotely related in any way. If there was an angry witch, we'd be able to find the pattern."

Zack nodded in agreement, "Kate's right. This isn't a witch with a vendetta, it's a monster having fun."

"Wait," Sam started, drawing everyone's gaze. "You said it targets people who feel guilty, but our victims were an engaged bookstore owner and a group of friends. What could they have to regret?"

"Everyone's got something that they're ashamed of," Kate pointed out, a hard edge directed at no one in particular in her voice. "Something they wish they hadn't done, something they think they could have prevented."

All of the people within the motel room grew uncomfortable at her words. Each one could name several times they had felt the same. Memories, some of which should have remained buried, were raked back up as they all avoided each other's eyes. In a moment of curiosity, Sam looked towards Kate to gauge her own reaction. Her eyes were directed towards the framed mirror hanging on the wall and, he realized, the photographs wedged between the frame and the glass. He could just barely make out the photos' subjects from where he stood.

Kate was in both photos, though she was a good deal younger and looked much happier. The more worn picture showed her with three other people at what seemed to be a beach. The couple a few inches from them could have been twenty years older than Kate and the younger boy next to her. The perhaps sixteen-year-old had the same dark hair and eyes, but he looked much more relaxed as he had his arm draped over her shoulders with a broad grin directed towards the camera. The photo beside it was of only Kate and a different boy. She looked older in this picture, but not by much more than the previous one. The young man beside her had a messy crop of sandy blonde hair and looked ecstatic as Kate presented the ring on her finger to the person taking the photo.

It was an engagement ring. But the only rings she wore now were simple silver and iron bands, he realized. What had happened to the people in her photos? Sam wondered if they were still alive or if the photos were memories of people who had passed. Before he could say anything on the matter, Kate had spoken up once more.

"So are you going to help us or are you going to try to kill me again?" she asked, watching Dean and Cas carefully.

Dean, Sam, and Cas exchanged glances as if trying to come to a silent agreement. It was obvious that the younger angel was not comfortable with Zack for some reason or other. And none of them were all too keen on working with a potential monster. But the alternative was to lose a valuable source of information and backup. If Kate's angel didn't kill them all for trying to hurt her before they could touch her. It seemed that his relationship to her was similar to Cas's with the Winchesters.

"Fine," Dean said at last. "Where do we find this basilisk?"

Kate nodded towards the door, "Go grab whatever you need from your car. We'll meet you outside in a minute."

"If this goes sideways," Dean warned, "and you decide to do something stupid, don't think you'll get out of this alive."

Zack's eyes narrowed and his hands clenched into fists, but he made no move towards them. Kate shot him a warning glance before she returned her gaze to Dean, brown eyes meeting green evenly.

"Duly noted. Just know that the same thing goes for you."


	9. B17: Chapter Seven

The second the Winchesters and their angel left the motel room, Kate relaxed slightly and gave a relieved sigh. Zack was by her side within seconds, a mix of anger and exasperation on his face. She knew what he was doing. It took a lot more than she had expected to keep from killing the boys. He was making sure she didn't snap and kill the people around them. Dismayed by his waning confidence, she pushed his arms away angrily.

"I'm fine," she snapped.

There was irritation in his eyes, but he kept his voice low, "No, you're not. You've been pushing yourself too far lately. You're going to end up slipping."

"I will not do that again!"

Both stopped short as the shout hung between them. Her eyes, which had flared up with light, were reverting back to their usual brown as she watched him. She slumped onto the bed with a morose expression. It was a low blow for him to pull, but it got his point across.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "You're right. I just…thinking about what I did to _him, _what I nearly did to them…I'm so tired of staying away. I thought that if I could get a hold on it, I might be able to see them again."

There was empathy in his eyes as she looked up to him. And yet, as she met his warm gaze, he realized she had slipped once more into her Hunter demeanor. There were no words for him to say that would reach her now. She stood up abruptly, grabbing the angel blade she had dropped. He could still see the imprint of the angel it had belonged to on its surface.

Puriel – one of the angels who had wronged her before Zack had met her. She had never explicitly said why she had kept his blade after killing him, but he knew she was after a second. It's why Kate had chosen this hunt to begin with. She had thought it was the angel who had led Puriel to her. Even though it wasn't personal anymore, he knew he couldn't persuade her to leave it to the Winchesters. He did not want her near Dean for too long. Though the elder Winchester could not seem to remember, Zack did not want the old memories coming back.

"We should go," she said as she walked towards the door. "They're waiting for us."

Zack watched her leave before giving a sigh, wondering not for the first time if he had made the right call so many years ago. But it did no good to linger on such things. He walked out after her within a minute of her departure.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Kate sat in the front seat of the Impala next to Dean. They sat in a heavy silence as neither of them were willing to speak just yet. It had been decided that they would travel together while Sam and Zaphkiel rode in the Catalina. It was the only agreement they could reach after coming to the conclusion that none of them trusted the others. Cas had left, by request of Zack, to retrieve mirrors and would meet them a few paces away from the basilisk's den.

And so the two Hunters stared out the windshield with little to no intention of actually saying a word. Kate had never been one for silence, though, as it allowed her mind to roam to more unpleasant regions. Memories aside, she could feel the need to kill clawing away at her mind as if begging to be let free. She needed a distraction.

"She really is a beautiful car."

Dean grit his teeth. Regardless of his soft spot for people who appreciated his baby, he wouldn't let his guard down. Especially not in front of a monster.

"Small talk?" he scoffed. "Really? That's what you're going for?"

"Over the deathly silence you have us stewing in?" she retorted. "Absolutely. Forgive me if I'm just trying to be friendly."

"I don't make friends with monsters."

"I know what I am. You don't have to be crass about it."

Dean snorted, "Well, 'forgive me' if I'm not tiptoeing around a killer's feelings."

"Is that what this is about?"

Dean barely glanced out the corner of his eyes towards her, but it was enough to catch her angry glare. She had turned in the seat to face him fully. Her jaw was clenched in anger, but she did her best not to lose her temper.

"You think I asked for this? You think I want this curse? That I wanted to feel like I have to kill – this need that burns through my veins and taps away in the back of my mind? Talk about a migraine from Hell. I would have rather not been born at all, if I had my way."

"Then why don't you just end it?" he snarled in response. "Save the real Hunters the trouble."

There was a hard edge in her eyes at his words. She proceeded to undo the first two buttons of her shirt and pull her collar to the side. The movement allowed him to see her left shoulder and the nasty scar that marred the pale flesh there. It looked as though the skin had once been flayed open there a long time ago. But what was worse was that he could see how it extended even further below her shirt.

"You think I haven't tried?"

Dean stopped short at the bitter tone at her voice. She turned her eyes back to the road, but the resentment on her face was still clear. Her fingers fell to her lap the second she finished buttoning it back up.

"I hit rock bottom one night," she explained, "and I didn't see any point in going on. So I took my angel blade and tried to carve out as much of myself as I could, to cause as much pain as I had caused. But I just woke up a few hours later with that scar.

"Something kept me alive that night – I don't know what. But I got to thinking after that. Yeah, I was a monster, but there were some perks. So I picked myself up and squared my shoulders. I tell myself that if I can save enough people, maybe I can make some things right. And, yeah, that doesn't change how many I've killed, but it's all I've got. So if you've got a problem with that, Winchester, you can take your complaints and shove 'em, because I'm not going anywhere so long as there's something I can do."

Taken aback by her words, Dean sat back in his seat. No response came to his mind as she fell silent. He glanced at her a few times, but she continued to stare pensively out the window. Her stance was tense, though it looked as though her anger was no longer directed towards him. They didn't say another word as he drove.

The atmosphere of the Catalina was much less charged as Zack watched the Impala in front of them. Sam took his time to notice what he could about the car. It was immaculate, fortunately, and only showed a few little signs of the person who owned it. Zack smirked as he noticed the younger Winchester.

"In the glove box," he said amiably, making Sam jump.

"What?"

"You're looking for something to give you insight on Kate," he explained. "Look in the glove box."

Giving the angel a look of confusion, Sam popped open the glove box before him. Inside were a few photos, a handful of necklaces with protective charms, and a tattered old book. He pulled it out carefully, flipping it over to see the cover. The title was just barely visible on the faded cover illustrations.

"_To Kill a Mockingbird_?"

"It's her favorite book," Zack said with a smile. "Her little brother it to her the last time she saw him. His teacher had assigned the novel and he loved it so much that he begged her to read it."

"She had a little brother?"

Zack gave him a sideways glance, "Everyone has a family, even Nephilim."

Sam's brow furrowed as he thought back to the photos he had seen in Kate's hotel room. He remembered the photo of what must have been her family. They looked as though they had been close.

"What happened?"

Zack shook his head, "It's a long story. And Kate would be furious if I told you."

Sam almost looked worried at the angel's words. But Zack gave him a reassuring glance.

"Her family's not dead, if that's what you believe," he explained. "There were a few close calls, though."

"Did she-?"

"No," Zack said quickly. "She was always careful around her family. Being a Nephilim draws a lot of attention, particularly from my brothers and sisters. They see her as living proof of their mistakes and so try to end her existence. Her family very nearly paid the price one day. She hasn't seen them since."

"If most angels hate Nephilim so much, why do you hunt with her?"

There was a brief flash of sadness in the angel's eyes, but it was gone a second later, "When I first met Kate, she was weary. She practically threw herself with little concern at the vampires she was hunting. I thought that perhaps the best way to correct a 'mistake' was to help her. For nine years, I've hunted by her side and I've watched her grow stronger in every sense of the word."

Sam watched as an elusive smile crossed Zack's face. It was the expression of someone who knew a secret that was particularly funny.

"I am not reluctant to say that I have grown fond of her," he continued. "It may be difficult to comprehend, but the idea of a friend was foreign to me before her. We angels, we have alliance and loyalty, but we do not truly have love. We call ourselves brothers and sisters and yet we feel no real love for each other. Kate showed me that devotion is more than blind faith."

Sam looked down at the worn old book in his hands, remembering when he was supposed to read it in middle school. The angel's words brought one of its lines to mind as he thought them over. _You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it_, if memory served. He recalled writing his essay on that one passage. In eighth grade, it had never really struck him how true those words were.

Turning back the cover absentmindedly, his eyes turned towards the name scribbled messily in the top corner on the back. _Andy Matthews_. He couldn't fight the smile that crept on his face. Despite the fact that the little paperback looked as though it might fall apart at any second, it also looked well-loved. He replaced it carefully in the glove box.

His attention returned to the street before them, the black outline of the Impala not too far in the distance. Sam wondered if his brother and Kate were getting along as well as he and Zack were – if it could be called getting along, anyway. He highly doubted it. Dean had never been forgiving towards those he considered monsters.

Zack watched the younger Winchester out the corner of his eye, "If I may be so blunt, you're hardly the man the rumors make you out to be."

Sam winced slightly, offering an apologetic smile, "Not all rumors are true."

"I can agree to that," the angel conceded. "I hope I can trust you, Sam Winchester."

"Honestly," Sam replied, "I hope I can trust you, too."


	10. B17: Chapter Eight

Kate slammed the door of the Impala, though she was careful not to slam it so hard that it broke. She was walking a thin line at that point. The heartbeats of Sam and Dean were all too loud, even over the purr of her Catalina, and her mouth felt dry. Her eyes wandered over her surroundings in an attempt to distract herself only to fall on the Winchesters' trench coat wearing angel. His blue eyes narrowed suspiciously when they fell on her.

She allowed her eyes to flash with pale grey light when she looked at him. It was a silent warning not to bother her the way he had earlier. She could see the feathers in his wings, which she could only see due to being a Nephilim, ruffle in agitation. Zaphkiel was at her side in an instant, his own wings flaring out the way a swan asserting its dominance would. Cas immediately looked away, his eyes focusing on the mirrors he had propped up against the trees.

Both brothers turned to watch the wordless conflict between the angels. So focused on the potential fight, they almost didn't notice when Kate walked to her car and opened the glove box. There was the sound of her rummaging through the contents before she straightened up and tossed the boys a pair of reflective sunglasses for each. Sam looked down at the sunglasses with an unspoken question clear in his expression.

"The eyes are the windows to the soul," she quoted. "It's a good thing Zack and I ran into some cockatrices awhile back or you'd be out of luck."

"Don't you need a pair?" Dean asked, watching her carefully.

She raised her eyebrows at him, "Didn't your angel tell you? I don't have enough of a soul to burn. It won't be able to kill me the way it would you."

Both Sam and Dean blinked in surprise at the nonchalant way she had stated her advantage. The elder Winchester gave his brother a pointed look, as if her words proved his argument that she could hardly qualify as human. But Sam was more focused on the other aspect of her wording. She had stated that she didn't have enough of a soul. Didn't that mean she had some fraction of one?

"Let's set up the surprise party."

Without another word, Kate walked towards the mirrors. Dean raised his eyebrows as she picked up four of them and carried them under her arm as she walked towards the cave. Stronger than humans, he realized, but he had already known that from their little skirmish from before. Zack followed soon after, though the older angel took a larger load of mirrors with him. The two brothers exchanged a glance before moving to follow. Cas's grip on both their arms brought them to a stop.

"Don't turn your backs on them," he warned, his voice stern.

"I thought you know the angel," Dean asked.

"I can't remember exactly who he is," Cas explained. "But what he is, his entire rank is a myth among the Garrisons. He shouldn't exist."

"What is he?" Sam asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Cas looked grim as he spoke again, "As far as I can tell, he's an Ophan. In the legends, they stood guard around God's throne. The archangels always said they didn't exist."

Both brothers stared at the blue eyed angel, trying to process what he had just said. Cas continued on as if he hadn't noticed the two watching him with looks that clearly said they thought he was nuts.

"We never thought them possible, regardless, as they are made of holy fire rather than grace," he mused. "To see one in existence…He would be incredibly powerful, more so than the archangels. But why would he be wandering Earth? And it doesn't explain why we were led to believe they didn't exist or why we can't remember them."

"Michael had Raphael set up the inhibitor program and Naomi wipe all trace of my kind."

Sam and Dean jumped as Zaphkiel appeared behind them with only the sound of soft wingbeats as a warning. Cas's eyes turned up to meet his elder brother's.

"Of course, it wasn't so difficult to do so as there were only five of us to begin with," he remarked. "If you three are finished agreeing that you trust neither my partner nor myself, we could use your aid."

He gave them a half-smile, though there was no emotion in the gesture, and picked up more mirrors. They watched in silence as he turned his back on them and walked back to the cave. Dean was the first to move, giving a shrug before grabbing a few mirrors himself.

"Come on," he snapped, sounding oddly cheerful compared to the last couple days. "Let's go skin a giant snake."

* * *

Dean kneeled behind one of the alcoves created by the rocks jutting from the cave's walls, watching the entrance. His attention returned back to Kate, who stood in the shadows of a small alcove with an angel blade in hand. Sam was outside the cave, up a tree or some such nonsense to keep an eye out. The Hunters had their sunglasses pushed down a fraction so that they could see for now. Both angels had left after a terse conversation in Enochian that Sam and Dean weren't privy to. It left the elder Winchester with a bad taste in his mouth.

"You never did explain why the halos had to leave," he hissed to Kate.

For the first second, he wondered if she would even hear him. But her dark eyes flashed to him in the next second and he had his answer.

"Angels are like celestial flare guns," she whispered back. "Monsters are subconsciously aware of their presence and actively avoid them."

"And what about you?"

"I may not have a soul like yours, but I don't have enough grace running through me to work the same way."

"Well, the second we've ganked this bastard, I'm giving Cas a call."

The Nephilim gave a sharp laugh, "You're going to have to shoot him a prayer, Winchester. There's no service way out here."

Dean fished his cellphone out his pocket, pressing the display button so that the screen flashed to life. He could feel Kate staring daggers in his direction as he did so, no doubt angered at the flippant disregard for the fact that they were trying to have some type of stealth. Ignoring her clear anger, he flashed her a view of his screen.

"Really?"

A frown crossed her face and she pulled out her own phone. The thoughtful expression deepening as she looked down at the service symbol on her screen.

"Four bars," she muttered. "That's impossible. I was barely a mile away from here earlier this week…"

Both of them shut their phones off at the sound of a twig snapping far past the opening of the cave. Dean pushed his sunglasses back into place as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. His fingers brushed against the hilt of his own angel blade. They had opted for the strange metal blades over hunting knives or machetes as, in Kate's words, 'angel blades are the one size fits all for killing monsters'.

Kate peered carefully around the edge, catching a glimpse of a man at the mouth of the cave. She backed away within a second, but it had been enough to get a good look. The man was fairly tall, his body slim and facial features pinched. Mirrored aviators were perched on the bridge of his nose, a too big leather jacket hanging from his shoulders. He was licking his fingertips with a few obscene moans of enjoyment. His footsteps stopped within a few minutes, causing all three Hunters to stiffen.

He tilted his head back ever so slightly, inhaling noisily as if savoring the scent. A throaty chuckle echoed through the cave.

"You really think you can hide from me?" he asked. "I've heard talk about the FBI agents in town, but I've been around long enough to know what you are. Come out and play, little Hunters."

With a nod from Kate, Dean stood up and into the line of sight of the man. The basilisk's eyebrows rose and a wicked smile split his face.

"Look at that," he sighed. "I've met a lot of guilt-ridden fools in my life, but you take the cake. I could live for decades with the remorse you carry. Bet you taste delicious."

Dean gave a feral smile in response, "Why don't you come over and have a bite, then?"

"Because you're not alone," the beast laughed, licking its lips. "So much guilt and all in my home. I'm so very glad you invited yourself to dinner."

Kate stepped from the shadows, causing the basilisk's smile to fall slightly. Sam stepped into the mouth of the cave shortly after. And yet, the monster only spared Sam half a glance before returning his attention to Kate. She spun the angel blade expertly in her fingers. Even from behind her, Dean could see the area before her light up as silver blazed up in her eyes.

"Your kind is extinct," the man snarled at her, though he backed up a pace.

"Almost extinct," she corrected, and there was a new edge to her voice that both Winchesters noticed. "Probably best to make entirely certain before making assumptions."

"Looks like you're our little bitch tonight," Dean snapped.

The basilisk gave a sigh, taking off his aviators despite having his eyes closed, "I had rather hoped to avoid this. Comfortable clothes are so difficult to come by."

He dropped the aviators on the ground, shaking his head disdainfully. Eyes still closed, he rolled his shoulders as if stretching. There was the sound of something being pulled tight as the creature began to grow. Leather, fabric, and skin pulled taut until it began to tear. The man's jaw came unhinged as his head oscillated to either side, revealing curved fangs protruding from the roof of his mouth. Scales pushed out of the ripping flesh with a strange hiss.

The three Hunters stared in shock as the last remnants of the man fell away to reveal a dark-scaled, skink-like creature almost as big as the cave. Its eyes finally slid open, revealing nictitating membranes and red eyes with slit pupils. Never had either brother seen a reptile look quite so smug. Only Kate managed to speak aloud the thought they all shared.

"Motherf-"


	11. B17: Chapter Nine

Kate's curse was cut off as the basilisk lunged towards her and Dean. Both leapt out of the way of the snapping jaws, one more gracefully than the other as they tumbled. She was back on her feet, curled in an almost animalistic crouch, by the time Dean had righted himself. There was no trace of brown in her eyes anymore, her lips curling back in a grin that made him shiver. The human façade had fallen away from her like a discarded coat. In that moment, he found Sam had been right. She had been holding back.

The basilisk turned towards her and opened its mouth to hiss, a viscous liquid dripping from its maw, as though to make it clear that she was his main target. Grabbing his angel blade, Dean rushed the beast. Sam was a step behind him, attacking from behind. Years of hunting together led them into a routine they both knew well. No words were needed for them to understand what the other was going to do.

As the beast charged forward, Kate remained still. Its tail whipped out, catching Sam by the waist and sending him sprawling against the cave wall. The eldest Winchester, in the basilisk's distraction, dug the blade hard against its scales. A sharp _ping_ echoed through the cave as the silvery weapon glanced off the black scales harmlessly. As Dean cursed their luck, he caught sight of Kate jumping just in time to escape the beast's jaws. Her foot slammed into its snout, sending her in a high arc over its eyes.

Her hand clamped around one of the spines on its back hard enough to draw blood. There was an instant flash of triumph in her eyes, a look which quickly disappeared as the beast bucked in attempt to throw her off. She drove her weapon beneath one of the smooth scales and a shriek escaped the monster. Dean desperately searched for a weak spot where he could get a hit, while at the same time keeping from being hit by the flailing limbs and tail. Over the mess, his eyes met Sam's. It was obvious that the younger Winchester had learned the same thing as his brother.

Dean pulled his gun from his belt and emptied the magazine into the creature, grimacing when the majority ricocheted off, "We can't get a hit!"

"Underbelly," Kate snapped, the word barely recognizable over the cacophony created.

Once more, Sam and Dean exchanged a glance once more. A silent agreement passed between them and Sam ran around to the basilisk's head. Dean ran the opposite direction, leaping over the legs and tail as the creature writhed.

"Hey!" Sam yelled, shooting off a few rounds at it.

Its head snapped to face him, red eyes furious. A screech emanated from its maw as it reared high like snake about to strike. In that moment, Dean leapt forward, thrusting the angel blade up into the softer scales of the creature's stomach. Black blood oozed from the wound and both brothers were forced to run as it came crashing down. Both were surprised when it didn't collapse dead.

"How do you kill this damn thing?" Dean yelled, more to himself than to anyone else.

Kate clambered higher up the struggling basilisk. Using the force of its buck to pry her angel blade loose and plunging it into one of the beast's eyes. She gave a shocked cry as it threw her over its head, causing her to crash against the stone floor a few feet from the brothers. Her face twisted in pain as she pushed herself to her feet. There was only irritation present in her expression as they watched the creature shake its head and face them once more.

"With great difficulty," she growled.

Without warning, Kate tossed Sam her angel blade with a gruff "don't lose it". He fumbled with it for a minute before righting it in his hand. When the two looked back up, she had charged the monster once more. She dodged a clawed leg and threw herself at its neck. Her arms barely wrapped around it, distracting the basilisk with the sudden change in tactic. She tugged at the creature, causing it to lean backwards and away from them.

"Any time now."

The words hadn't even left her lips when the boys charged together. As the blades slid through the soft underbelly, the beast pitched into one of the columns within the cave. Kate gave a sharp cry as she fell to the floor. The basilisk's screams were reduced to gurgling gasps as blood welled up in its chest. The stones it had hit cracked, pulling apart as the beast fell to the floor. Kate was just pushing herself off the floor as they began to fall.

"Look out!" Sam shouted, rushing to help her.

Ignoring his brother shouting his name, Sam reached for the Nephilim's hand. In the next second, he was shoved back violently, slamming into the cavern floor hard enough to force the breath from his lungs. The stones of the broken stalactites crashed down towards them only to roll off something above Kate with the strangest of sounds. Her face was screwed up in pain as she kneeled over him protectively. He watched, mesmerized, as the dust finally settled around them and collected on the invisible barrier above them.

They were wings. Long, immaculate feathers coated in dust that he had not been able to see before. They stretched from Kate's back, covering what she could not shield of him herself. He stared at them in shock as she opened her eyes slowly. There was no silver glow left in her eyes, just a warm brown that searched over him in worry.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice strained.

Before he could answer, something barreled into her, shoving her aside and off of him. A sharp gasp escaped her as she fell on her side. The tumble dispersed the dust from her wings, making them invisible to the eye once more. And then Dean was before him, effectively blocking his view, glaring at her angrily. An angel blade shone in his hand.

"Wait, Dean!" he shouted, grabbing his brother's arm.

"What the hell were you doing, Nephilim?" the elder Winchester snarled.

Kate looked up at him with a mix of incredulity and anger, but she offered no answer as she wiped the blood from her busted lip. The sad thing, Sam thought, was that the expression on her face only lasted a few seconds. Now she simply looked as though she had received similar reactions all the time. She looked resigned.

"She saved my life."

The words provoked a reaction from both Dean and Kate. Both had the same stunned expression on their faces. Before either of the boys could say anything more, she pushed herself to her feet carefully. She looked down at them in her dusty clothes and bruised appearance with all the empathy of the stones around them.

"I'll go call Zack and Cas," she explained before walking out without another word.

The Winchesters watched her go, both harboring new questions regarding the woman.


	12. B17: Chapter Ten

Kate hissed in pain as her fingers dug into the bullet wound in her side. Hearing the sound, Zack looked up from where he was healing Dean. She shot him a sharp look at the expression on his face and shook her head. She didn't need him tending to her every cut and scrape. Even if bullets were a pain to pull out.

"If you need help, you could ask."

She looked up to see Sam's mottled green eyes and a boyish smile. Had she not known them by reputation, she would have never pegged either of them as Hunters. They looked too friendly at times for their kind of life. Shaking her head slightly to dispel the thoughts, she offered him an indifferent shrug.

"All I need to do is pull it out before it heals up," she explained, smiling in return. "Otherwise I have problems getting on planes."

Ignoring her joke, he continued, "You don't want me to sew it up? I can get Cas to look you over, if you want."

"My body heals faster than yours. One of the few perks of being a Nephilim. And Zack's a Rit Zien, so I think I'm covered health-wise."

"Right," Sam muttered.

Grimacing one last time, Kate pulled the bullet free with a triumphant 'ha!' Sam watched her with an amused expression as she examined the bloody lump of metal. She gave a wry little smile when she caught his look, tossing the bullet in the air and catching it again.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that a lot of the monsters you shoot don't give your bullets back."

He didn't miss the flippant way she hinted at the fact that she was technically a monster, a stark difference from how she had reacted at the word before. It almost made him feel a bit guilty. He hopped onto the hood of her Catalina next to her.

"You're in a good mood."

She tapped her temple lightly, "Headache's gone. And should be for another week or so before it comes creeping back."

"It must be difficult to live that way."

"_C'est la vie_," she answered easily. "We've all got something in our lives that we'd love to change. Mine just happens to be more genetic."

She went silent for a minute, looking over him carefully.

"You okay?" she asked, catching his attention once more. "No broken bones?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for that, by the way."

"No need for thanks. Saving people is kind of in the job description," she answered. "Besides, you would have probably done the same for me if you could."

That was probably true. However, before he could say anything in response, he noticed Dean burning holes in the back of his head from across the abandoned lot. The elder Winchester nodded towards the Impala emphatically.

"I think your brother's about ready to ditch me," Kate laughed.

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"No worries," she said. "That's what family's for: being overprotective and driving you nuts."

It was then that Sam realized how he could repay her. Though Dean was likely to throw a royal bitch fit over the matter, they really owed it to her. Besides, she didn't seem like such a terrible person.

"Where are you heading after this?"

She shrugged, "I've got a twenty-two hour drive back home, so I'll probably just find another hunt somewhere not too far from here."

"Well, if you want, you could follow us," he suggested. "We've kind of got a secret bunker in Lebanon."

She raised an eyebrow at him, "A secret bunker?"

"It's safe – warded against everything we happen to know of. And it has several empty bedrooms, a fully stocked kitchen, a shooting range, a library full of lore, a garage, and Dean went out and bought like five memory foam mattresses."

The laugh Kate gave was a surprise. Her eyes fluttered closed and her face tilted up to the sky, a deep sort of chuckle escaping her crooked grin. Sam couldn't help but smile in response.

"You should have been a real estate agent, Sam," she said at last. "You really know how to sell an idea."

The horn of the Impala blared out as an impatient Dean leaned out the window to look at the two.

"Come on, Sammy!"

"I'd better go," he sighed, pushing himself off the hood. "Give us a call if you ever decide to drop by and we'll text you the address."

"Or I could just follow you there," she suggested, shrugging when he turned back to look at her. "If that's alright with you."

Sam grinned at her attempt to come across as indifferent towards the matter, "Sure."

He turned once more and walked the rest of the distance to the Impala, unaware of the conversation that cropped up as Zack approached her. The angel watched the Winchesters as they pulled out of the lot.

"I take it we're following them to this bunker?" he asked.

"You said the Men of Letters had a base in Lebanon," she pointed out. "If it's the same place, the library he mentioned could have what we're looking for."

"We shouldn't follow them any further."

She shook her head at him, "I know you don't trust them, but we can be in and out of there in a day. This is hardly an opportunity we can afford to miss."

He watched her silently as she slid off the hood of her car and walked around towards the driver's seat. There wasn't much, he knew, that he could do once she set her mind to it. Besides, he would be watching them the entire time. He gave a sigh of resignation before joining her in the front seat.

"So what were you and Castiel talking about?"

"Recent developments in among our brothers and sisters."

If Kate noticed his answer had come far too quick, she didn't make any mention of it. She simply pulled out and followed after the black Impala before them. Her mind was far too focused on what she might find at the Winchesters' bunker.


	13. Book Eighteen: It

**Book Eighteen**

**It**

_"We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict."_

_-Jim Morrison_

* * *

**Then**

Rain poured down in buckets, bringing a scowl to the face of the man waiting before the metal door. Many people would have missed the sheet of iron embedded into the surface of the ridge. He, however, knew what the importance of that door what. Or, more specifically, what lay beyond the door. A small wooden box with ornate designs carved into its surface was clutched tightly in his hands as though the devil himself was inside. It might as well been the devil within, the man thought.

His knocks were finally answered by a young man with mussed brown hair and tired eyes. He rubbed his eyes and peered out into the rain, his dark eyes finally falling on the man holding the box. There was a worried edge in his expression as he recognized the other.

"You're late."

It wasn't a reprimand. Far from it, fear weighed heavily in the two words. They were an observation mixed with a silent question as to why it had taken so long. The man with the box shifted slightly, a gesture the younger man almost missed, as he tried to ignore the messy stitches in his arm. Part of him wondered if he should have thanked the Hunter for stitching up the laceration that had been there. Too late for regrets, the man decided.

"Yes, well, that is what happens when you have Men of Letters doing a Hunter's job," he snapped. "It took a good deal of negotiating to stop them from killing it altogether."

"Are you certain you should have stopped them at all? We aren't even sure of what _it_ is. It cannot possibly be a good idea to keep it here."

The older man shrugged, "Orders are orders. It's a Hunter's job to kill and Man of Letters to study. The very reason we are keeping it is to study it in case there are more. Now, are you going to let me in, son?"

The young man grimaced, pulling the door open so he could pass by. He hated when anyone referred to him as 'son'. It was demeaning and impersonal, though he would never dare say those exact words aloud.

"I'm not your son," he muttered, his eyes downcast as the older man walked by.

All he received was a halfhearted grunt of acknowledgement before he shut the door. Whether or not the older gentleman would take his words into account at later times, he didn't know. He supposed it didn't truly matter. Particularly when the older man shoved the box into his hands roughly, causing him to jump and fumble with it for a second, before taking off his waterlogged coat.

"Don't drop the damned thing," the older man snapped, taking the box back and throwing his coat into his arms. "It took far too long to catch it to begin with. And you certainly don't want to face the thing."

The younger man wrinkled his nose at the damp and – was that viscous material clinging to it blood? – filthy overcoat in his hands. He wasted no time in tossing it onto the empty hat stand, mentally making a note to burn the offending article of clothing at a later time. The hat stand would likely need to be destroyed, as well, simply by the crime of association with the coat.

"What exactly does it do?"

The older man shook his head, "None of us are sure of what happened. It induces hallucinations, as best I can tell, particularly ones with ties to your memories. Each of us saw something different. Two Hunters died of heart attacks without even being touched."

"Any other casualties?"

"Not to any Men of Letters. A few Hunters had some nasty cuts, mostly self-inflicted, however."

"Better the grunts than the men with something above their shoulders."

The younger man stumbled back a few steps as a hand collided hard against the length of his face. His fingers prodded the stinging flesh carefully, his dark eyes wide in surprise as he looked to the older man. There was a hard expression on his lined face and a grim set to his lips.

"Do not disrespect any man who would put himself in harm's way for the good of others, be he a scholar or a soldier," he said, his voice hard and cold like steel. "The Hunters protect people in ways that we cannot. We are not above them in any way."

So the rumors were true, the younger man thought. He had heard tell of some older Hunters, after being wounded too gravely to return to the life, becoming honorary Men of Letters. It had been a difficult and ludicrous idea which he hadn't initially believed. However, he could almost see it as he looked closer at the man before him and noticed the little signs that marked him for what he had been. Out of the darkness of the night outside, he could see that the man couldn't have been older than forty. And yet his hair was mostly grey, the lines on his face much more prominent than they should have been, and a faint scar just above his lip that was too jagged to be from a knife. He bowed his head in shame.

"I apologize. It's late and my weariness makes me thoughtless."

"Most of us live on only a handful of hours of sleep a week," the older man growled. "If you can't handle the requisites of this life, you should check out and work elsewhere. This job has no place for those who cannot keep their wits about them at all times."

With that, the older man shoved past him roughly. He watched as the man continued down the library and to the hall which led down the stairs. It seemed he knew exactly where he was going.

"Where are you going to put it?" he called.

The older man stopped, turning to glance over his shoulder at him, "Somewhere where no one will stumble across it. Hopefully."


	14. B18: Chapter One

Kate and Zack arrived at the Bunker a good two hours after Sam and Dean. They had, of course, followed the Impala at a safe distance to see where they pulled in before heading out for a few things from a supermarket. Though the angel had questioned her as to why they were picking up flour and granny smith apples, and had given her a skeptical look when she explained the reason, he said nothing. His confusion was still evident in his expression.

When they had finally arrived, Zack had left shortly after unlocking the door for her. Sometimes, it was convenient, Kate thought to herself, to have an angel on her side. She carried her duffle and the groceries in unsteadily. It wasn't that the bags were too heavy for her, but rather awkward in their size for her to hold. The Bunker was silent, quiet except for the soft breaths of the sleeping Winchesters, but it wasn't comfortable for her. The quiet reminded her of worse times and gave her time to think.

She walked out of the kitchen, going to the duffle she had laid on the table, and dug out her MP3. It was old and scratched with a near set of earbuds wrapped around it, but it still played well enough. She was just about to turn it on when she noticed a stereo jack and iPod tucked away on one of the bookshelves. A smile tugged at her lips, her curiosity getting the best of her as she walked over to it. It was full of songs of every genre with some dating back as far as the mid-60's. And then there were the playlists.

"Huh," she muttered to herself, hesitating when she got to the playlist labeled _Dean's Mix_. "Let's see what you like, Winchester."

It took less than a minute for her to decide to take the whole set with her into the kitchen. Setting it up on one of the cleaner countertops, Kate turned the volume just low enough that only she could hear it without waking up the brothers and hit shuffle on Dean's playlist. Billy Squier's 'Lonely is the Night' began playing first and she nodded approvingly. She returned to what she had been doing before, humming to the tune as she worked.

Her attention turned to the cabinets once she had set the timer, taking her time going through the contents of each one. There was very little in the way of food, much to her surprise, and most of them were empty. By the end of the hour she had found a few packets of beef jerky, a box of crackers, some Reese's peanut butter cups, and, oddly, three large bags of M&amp;M's. There also happened to be something in the back of one of the drawers that looked as though it might have once been edible but had evolved into a fuzzy, green pile.

The library was the next thing she perused. Hours passed as she looked over the titles, interrupted only by the sound of the timer next to the stove going off, and flipped through the pages of the few she found that she could read and looked promising. The few which actually held any information regarding angels or Nephilim were either severely lacking or full of false information. She chuckled at one book, which claimed her kind were giants of at least thirty feet tall, as she thought of her own five-foot-seven stature that made most hunters taller than her.

The sound of footsteps from down the hall snatched her attention away from the book in her hands and she quickly slipped it back onto the shelf. Silence fell the second she turned around, her eyes meeting the green eyes of Dean Winchester. They stared at each other for a full minute, the quiet between them weighted by a mutual distrust, before he broke it.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Kate raised her eyebrows, "Excuse me?"

"How did you get in here?"

"Technically, Zack used telekinesis to open the lock," she admitted, having the decency to look guilty. "But Sam invited me. I'm just-"

The indignation and anger was clear in his green eyes, "Sam invited you? Well, he sure didn't check with me."

"I didn't realize Sam answered to you. And I don't think he did, either."

There was a sardonic laugh in her voice, one that held no true amusement. She almost sounded as though she was mocking him. The tone made him see red, anger boiling up at her flippant demeanor, and he grit his teeth.

"Get out," he snapped, taking a few steps forward.

She closed the distance between them, meeting his eyes evenly, "No."

"Get out of my bunker."

"Your bunker?" she echoed. "This is a Men of Letters bunker – one of the last in existence. You have no more right to it than I do."

"The hell I don't," he sneered.

Something about his tone, the expression in his eyes, that caught her attention. It was the same indignation and arrogance she had heard in the angels she had faced before. Almost as if he thought he was better than her.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I read about your kind on this last hunt," he smiled, though there was no kindness in the gesture. "The Nephilim, you're some nasty sons of bitches. All the 'sinfulness' of man mixed with the wrath of Heaven. Increased strength, speed, agility, perception, you're the perfect predator. The perfect killer."

He bore down on her, his face only fractions of an inch away from hers. Her jaw tensed at his words as she listened to him.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" he demanded. "You've said it yourself. You have a need to kill, a need to rip someone apart and feel their blood run down your hands."

Kate's nails dug into her palms, almost breaking the skin as she tried to keep calm. Despite the fact that she had just gotten off a hunt, which should have staved off the need for at least a week, she could already feel it scratching away at the inside of her mind. She took a step back and he followed her.

"Just how many people have you killed?"

She shook her head, her voice coming out as a whisper, "Stop it."

"How many innocent lives have died because of what you are?"

"I'm warning you, Winchester."

He matched every step she took, never letting the distance between them reach further than a few inches. Blood dripped down from her palms where she clenched her fists. Dean wasn't sure why he was continuing, as part of him told him it was wrong to push her this far, and yet something was telling him to keep going. It was like when the Mark drove him over the edge during a hunt. Something told him that this was how they were supposed to be: enemies.

"You can't very well call yourself a Hunter with what you are," he snapped. "And you can't say you have a right to anything in this bunker."

"Shut your damn mouth."

"You're exactly the monster we hunt. And if the Men of Letters were still alive, they wouldn't let you in here unless it was to lock you up, kill you, or study you."

"Dean?"

Both jumped as Sam's voice rang out through the room. Their eyes locked on him, watching in horror as though both had been doused in ice water. The younger Winchester, who was still bleary-eyed from sleep, stared at the two in confusion. As though an electric shock ran through her, Kate took a few rapid steps back. She turned on the balls of her feet and walked briskly out of the room. Her shoulder brushed against Sam's arm as she walked by, and he looked down to see the anger in her eyes and a barely perceptible grey glow behind the brown. He watched as she left before turning to his brother.

"What are you doing, Dean?"

Dean looked at his brother with glassy eyes, as if in a daze, blinking to clear his head. It was then that confusion dawned on his expression.

"What was that?" Sam demanded. "She already told us she's got a short fuse and you're picking fights with her?"

Dean's green eyes went to the door Kate had just left through before his attention returned to his brother. Sam gaped at him, waiting for an answer.

The elder Winchester sighed, "I don't know, Sam. I just lost it. Why'd you tell her she could come here?"

"She saved my life back in that cave," Sam snapped. "We owe her."

Dean opened and shut his mouth, searching for something to say. He knew she had saved his brother's life, he had seen her throw herself over Sam and watched as the rocks seemed to just slide over the air around them, and yet his instincts were still telling him that she wasn't to be trusted. Sam watched his brother for a second before shaking his head and going out after Kate. His older brother stood in the center of the library, staring after him as he walked away.

It wasn't difficult for Sam to find Kate, despite the Bunker being designed like a mini labyrinth. She had turned down the hallway leading to the dorms and the door was left ajar on the room she had entered. He watched as she paced inside the room, blood still dripping from her clenched hands at her sides, but she didn't seem like she was going to snap anymore. It almost looked as though she was dragging herself back from the edge.

"We've got a first aid kit if you want to fix your hands," he suggested, his tone kind as he leaned against the doorframe.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, but visibly calmed when she saw it was him. A rueful smile crossed her face as she held up her palms to him. Blood still crept down her skin, staining the cuffs of her shirt, but there were only faint scars where her nails had been digging into her palms.

"Thanks for the offer," she said. "But I've got it covered. May not be able to heal others, but my body pretty much takes care of itself."

He nodded in understanding before offering an apologetic "Sorry about Dean, by the way. He hasn't been in a good place for the last couple months."

It wasn't a lie. It simply wasn't the entire truth, either. He couldn't tell her that his brother bore the Mark of Cain. As much as he wanted to trust her, which was quite a bit given as he knew most people wouldn't risk their lives for a stranger and yet she had, he knew there were certain things he couldn't tell her. Besides, it would be helpful to have a Nephilim on his side in case of trouble.

"Why are you treating me like this?"

Sam stopped short at her words, watching the perplexed expression on her face.

"What do you mean?"

"Regardless of how much of an ass he is about it, Dean is right," she pointed out. "I'm not human. Why are you treating me like I am? You should be running me through on principle alone."

"That wouldn't exactly be right after what you did for us. Besides, you don't seem like a monster, so I'm not going to treat you like one."

"You don't know me."

Sam shrugged, "I know you didn't choose to be what you are."

Her brown eyes snapped up to his mottled green, the look of surprise evident in her expression.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head, "You're the first person who's ever said that to me."

Kate's eyes slid down to the floor, the faintest of smiles crossing her lips. Sam watched her in shock as he scrambled for something to say. She didn't give him the chance when she looked back up at him.

"Thank you."


	15. B18: Chapter Two

Sam wandered back to the kitchen, hoping to find his brother and maybe talk out a sort of truce between the two he now shared the Bunker with, only to find Dean moaning with a fork in his mouth. The elder Winchester had his eyes closed, a plate full of crumbs in his hand. It was then that the smell hit him like a brick wall. Warm apples, a hint of cinnamon, and pie crust – a combination that spelled Dean's kryptonite. Sam barely bit back a laugh, causing Dean to open his eyes.

"Where did you learn to make pie, man?" he asked, putting the fork down on the plate.

"I didn't."

Dean stopped dead, his green eyes flicking towards the pie on the counter and back to Sam. He could all but see the cogs turning in his older brother's head.

"Glad you like the pie."

Both turned to see Kate leaning against the doorjamb, her arms crossed and her face impassive. She didn't look angry or upset anymore as she watched the two. It was only when Dean gave a little choke, tossing the plate onto the countertop, that she rolled her eyes.

"Don't be such a drama queen," she sighed. "If I was going to kill you, I would've done it when you were asleep. I'm not going to poison a friggin' pie."

Giving Dean no time to retort, she straightened up and kept talking, "Look, I know we don't see eye to eye. I know you hate me for what I am and part of you is pissed off that Sam doesn't have broken bones because of me. I get it. But I'd appreciate it if I could crash here for a bit. I'll even help out around here, think of it as my way of paying rent. What do you say?"

"Help out?" Dean repeated incredulously. "We don't need your help."

Kate raised her eyebrows at him, looking as though she was biting back a laugh, "Please. Your library is a mess, some of the bedrooms have been taken over by dust bunnies, there's black mold in some of the corners, and your pantry looks like my seventh grade science project. It's a wonder you two haven't died yet."

The two brothers exchanged glances at her words, though Dean was focused more on her final sentence than the list she had provided them with.

"You went through the Bunker while we were asleep?" Sam asked.

She shrugged, "I had time to kill and, honestly, I was curious. This is one of the Bunkers of the infamous Men of Letters, after all. I couldn't help myself. Speaking of – what's up with the secret room with the devil's trap bolted to the floor?"

Dean gave a sardonic smile, "It's our sex dungeon."

Kate gave a thoughtful frown, but didn't appear fazed, "Kinky. So, do we have a deal or not?"

Another glance was exchanged between the boys, a silent conversation that only they could understand. It was obvious, however, that Dean was quickly losing. Everything she had said was true, and Sam was right in the fact that having a Nephilim might come in handy in the long run.

"Oh, by the way, I noticed there's a door with a Babylonian lock keeping it shut. Neither of you know how to speak Akkadian, by any chance, do you?"

Both of the Winchesters blinked in surprise at the question. A smirk crossed Kate's lips, as she knew she had just won the battle.

"Didn't think so," she all but laughed. "Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll take a crack at it."

She moved to turn around, to walk right out of the kitchen and to the door she had described, when Dean spoke up.

"Wait," he called, catching her mid-step. "Why do you want to stay here? I'm guessing you don't sleep, so you obviously don't want it as a quick fix to crash. What is it that you want so badly in here?"

Kate bit her lip, a habit she had whenever she was in a particularly difficult situation, as she weighed her options. It really wasn't any of their business what she wanted with the Bunker. It wouldn't hurt them in any way, nor anyone else. On the other hand, she did need to gain Dean's trust back if they were going to stay together. If she was going to stay with the trigger-happy Winchesters, for an indefinite amount of time in an underground Bunker, she would rather not end up having to pull a knife out of her chest. And the best way to make certain of that was to tell them the truth.

"I'm hoping that there might be some information on Nephilim," she sighed.

"But you are one," Dean said.

She shot him an unamused expression, "Do you know everything there is to know about humans? The psychology, biology, cultures, physical capabilies of your entire species?"

"Can't you learn from another Nephilim?" Sam asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Would if I could, but I'm the only one left," she replied with a shrug. "There was another one, but she was found dead in a park a few months back with her heart cut out of her chest."

The two were silent as they thought about the implications of what she had just said. While Dean mentally filed away that cutting out the heart of a Nephilim would kill it, Sam's mind turned to the difficulties of growing up as something other than human without anyone to explain what she was or how it would affect her. He wondered how she first learned about the bloodlust and how it had impacted her childhood. He wondered if it was lonely to be the only one of her kind, even if they were killers.

"So are we good or not?"

Dean hesitated before giving a vague shrug. As though that settled matters, he turned his back on her and picked up his fork to cautiously prod the pie on the counter. Kate turned her gaze onto Sam, raising her eyebrows in a silent question, but the younger Winchester gave her a look that clearly said 'your guess is as good as mine'. He walked towards her, deciding it was best to give Dean a little space for the time being.

"Come on," he said, walking out with her. "We'll find you a room."

She gave him an amused smile, "I didn't realize that an empty one needed to be found."

"Well, like you said, most of the rooms are housing dust bunnies. And they don't really like to share."

"Oh, so _you _are the one with the sense of humor."

"Dean really is alright. It's just been…a rough couple of months," he said, reaching for the duffle bag on the table at the same time Kate did.

Sam looked up from the duffle to Kate, who was raising her eyebrows at him. She looked as though she was biting back a laugh. He cleared his throat, giving the duffle a slight tug, and waited for her to let go of the handle.

"You don't want to pick this up."

That took Sam by surprise, but he shook his head and said, "I've got it."

"If you think you can," she said, raising her hands in defeat. "Be my guest."

Sam shot her a confused look, giving a scoff under his breath, and made to pick up her duffle. The second he put any real effort into the action, he realized why she had thought him incapable of picking it up. It was heavy enough to nearly tug him to the ground as she let go and he quickly lost his balance. His gaze flew from Kate to her bag and back, an incredulous laugh escaping him, as he righted himself.

"What do you have in this thing?" he asked, letting it go.

She swung it up and over her shoulder easily, "Everything I need to survive that I can shove in. Angel-grade strength is apparently hereditary – definitely one of the more useful genes."

With a flash of a smile, she turned away and walked down the hall in the direction of the dorms. Sam spared the kitchen one last glance, wondering how well their little truce was going to last, before following her out. She seemed to slow down when she heard his footsteps as though she wanted him to keep up.

"You know," she said as he managed to catch up. "I'm not sure whether you two are brilliant or greedy to keep this place to yourselves. On the one hand, there are a lot of Hunters out there who could definitely use a safe haven like this. This Bunker's well-fortified, warded against both angels and demons, full of lore, lots of room for storage…it could save a lot of lives. Then again, stick too many Hunters in an underground Batcave, they'll get stir crazy, and somebody's liable to shoot someone else."

Sam laughed, though he knew it to be true, "Honestly, we've kept it to ourselves because we're not on the good side of a lot of Hunters."

"Ah, right," she muttered. "Yeah, I know a few who're still a little sore from the whole apocalypse issue. And the Eve problem…and the Leviathans…and the whole 'angels are real and they're the body snatchers' debacle that's still being cleaned up. Man, you guys really don't know how to get the right kind of attention."

She had meant it as a meaningless tease, that much was clear, but her words cut too close to the truth and Sam couldn't find it in himself to laugh. He gave a wan smile instead, which came across as more of a grimace. She winced in response.

"Sorry. That was a bit uncalled for," she told him. "Being what I am, I don't spend a lot of time around anyone for an extended amount of time, except Zack, so this is me. Good with guns, bad with people."

"Welcome to the club," he laughed. "Two year members get a custom jacket."

Kate gave a sharp laugh, "For someone who claims to have crap people skills, you sure don't seem to have any trouble figuring out what to say."

That was a friendly jab. Or, at least, it was meant to be. Instead of replying, Sam pushed open the closest dorm door.

"This is one of the cleaner ones. Six doors down from Dean, diagonally across the hall from me, if it doesn't bother you. If it does, there are plenty of other rooms that are vacant."

"This'll be fine," she answered, tossing her duffel onto the mattress. "Maybe keeping a closer eye on me will take the edge off of your brother's paranoia."

"Yeah, something tells me that's not really going to work," he muttered, watching as she pulled two photographs – the same from the hotel room – out of the side pocket and leaned them against the wall of the overhang above the bed.

She didn't say anything for a few minutes. Instead, she tossed her duffel onto the mattress, causing it to sink with the sudden weight, and quickly glanced around the room. She wasted no time in unzipping her bag and rummaging through the piles of miscellaneous clothes, weapons, cleaning supplies, first aid supplies, charms, cosmetics, and a few odd and ends like rope and a shovel. Sam raised an eyebrow at the miniature arsenal. She hadn't been lying about shoving everything she physically could into her duffle – she almost had as much in that little bag as both he and Dean kept in the Impala's trunk, excluding the time they had kept Crowley in it, of course. As Kate was tossing a few piles of jeans and T-shirts onto the overhang, Sam noticed something in her duffel that surprised him.

"Is that a hula hoop?"

She glanced over her shoulder at him, "Yeah. And?"

"Why do you have a hula hoop in your duffel?"

"Salt ring," she answered automatically, adding a thick leather-bound journal to the pictures and piles of clothes.

Sam blinked at her as though waiting for her to laugh at him and say it was a joke. However, if it was a joke, she seemed to think he didn't need clarification. She continued to arrange her things, completely oblivious to his staring.

"What?" he exclaimed as he came to the conclusion that she wasn't going to explain it to him without being prompted to.

She looked at him with an expression of disbelief, "You do keep a few hula hoops full of salt, don't you? For ghosts and demons?"

He shook his head slowly.

"Don't tell me you just lay a circle of salt down on the floor," she scoffed, her incredulity turning to a sort of surprised horror. "What do you do when the ghosts blow it away?"

He shrugged, "We just kind of improvise."

She looked almost offended at that, "Who the fuck taught you to hunt?"

"Our dad."

"I take it he did a lot of research on his own?"

Sam nodded, causing Kate to sigh.

"I guess I'm going to have to run to Walmart later," she muttered before looking up at him with a shake of her head. "But never mind that right now. I was thinking about checking out what's behind that locked door. You wanna come with?"

"Sure," he said, sparing her duffle one last glance before following her out.


End file.
